


Broken Thoughts (I Remember Everything)

by blackwatchandromeda



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brainwashing, Domestic Avengers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra Peter Parker, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Kidnapping, Memory Loss, Mystery, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Panic Attacks, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-09-25 19:37:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 33,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17127476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackwatchandromeda/pseuds/blackwatchandromeda
Summary: "Peter, who am I?"He hesitates. "I'm sorry. I... I don't know."-Peter Parker has been missing for thirty-six days. When Tony Stark finally finds him, he's wandering around New York with no memories, unaware of where and who he is. The missing month is a mystery, and nobody knows what happened to him - least of all the kid himself.Peter, meanwhile, is trying to piece together who he was. What doesn't help is the big secret he's sure Tony is keeping from him, or the way the man is avoiding him.Nobody notices how the missing month is catching up to them until everything goes wrong.-(Not Infinity War compliant, but takes place after Civil War.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey everyone! welcome to my first foray into the mcu. i'm an absolute sucker for irondad and spiderson, so i decided to contribute. i hope you enjoy!
> 
> (fic title is from "hurt" by johnny cash/nine inch nails.)

Angry beeping wakes him up, the sound of backed-up traffic and irritated drivers. He opens his eyes slowly and squints against the near-blindingly bright sky before he props himself up to a sitting position.

Where is he?

There’s another round of honking that draws his attention, and his gaze flicks towards the sound. A busy street stretches out below him, another road to his right cutting straight through it. The intersection is jammed completely. Yellow cabs glint in the strong sunlight, making him wince. He’s on a roof, for some reason, but when he glances around him he can’t see any doors to get back down. The only thing up here with him is a thin white sheet of some kind.

"Holy shit," he mutters, staggering to his feet. His head is pounding painfully, something in the back of his mind throbbing. His body feels like it's irreversibly bruised, the ache settling into his bones as he moves. His leg twinges, and when he looks down he can see what looks like _blood_ seeping through his jeans. "What the hell?" He’s injured, alone, and on a roof in the middle of an unknown city. He doesn’t know where he is: and that’s when it hits him.

He doesn’t know _who_ he is.

" _Shit_ ," he says aloud. Something bad has evidently happened to him, but the explanation evades him. Everything does, in fact. His thoughts are broken, fragmented, and he lets out a groan as his head spins again. He checks his clothing: there are his half-bloodied blue jeans, and then he's wearing a pair of slightly-worn sneakers and a gray T-shirt. With a jolt, he realizes just how _cold_ it is to not be wearing a coat.

_Check your pockets._

The idea goes off like a lightbulb in his head and he rifles through his jeans pockets, finding only a pair of keys and a half-smashed phone. He resists the urge to hold his breath as he turns it on. The screen lights up through the spider-webbing cracks, to his relief, and begins to boot. He's greeted with a picture of two kids, both with nerdy T-shirts and wide grins plastered across their faces. They're holding up what looks like a huge model sphere between them, intentionally dented near the top, and pointing. An unlock symbol hovers below the photo, and he hesitantly taps it. A passcode prompt pops up. He swears, typing in 1234 as a first try. 2018, from the phone's set date, is next; it's winter, which explains why he's so cold. Both codes make the phone vibrate unhappily. They're wrong. The screen prompts him to try scanning his fingerprint, but when he looks at the scanner it's cracked to hell and unusable. He furrows his brow, trying to rack his brain for any clues to the code.

Suddenly, there's a click behind him and he spins, heart pounding. Coming out of a side door in the building that he somehow didn't see before is a guy in overalls, presumably a janitor, pulling out a lighter from his pocket. The man's back is to him; he hasn't been noticed yet. He quickly makes his way closer, and the janitor starts lighting a cigarette. He dodges past the guy and into the still-open door.

"Hey -" he hears the janitor shout, but he's already half-tripping and half-sprinting down the stairs. He shoves open the door at the bottom to see a quiet office floor, machines humming around him and idle conversation floating through the air. He pauses, momentarily lost. A blonde woman looks up at him, frowning, and then his eyes land on an elevator to his right and he darts towards it. Thankfully, it's already on this floor, and he jabs the close button and exhales as the door slides shut. It's only a quick ride to the ground floor.

The bottom of the building is a clean-looking reception, all phones ringing and computer screens shining. Several people mill around, some in queues, some behind desks, and others sitting in the lobby chairs. He keeps his head down as he strides out of the elevator and heads straight for the glass doors at the other end, and ignores the hesitant "Sir...?" from one receptionist.

He reaches the doors and steps outside, and immediately there's a wave of _noise_ that almost knocks him over. The honking is louder at street level, and the cars' tires make noise as people yell and chat and walk and it's so _loud_. He resists the urge to curl up and press his hands against his ears when he sees the receptionist from the office building walk away from her desk, about to confront him. The urge to run nags at him and he starts walking blindly, keeping to the pavement and trying not to cringe at the volume of the city. Someone shoves into him and he flinches away; a guy in a suit bustles past him, talking snappily on the phone. His breathing picks up as someone else mutters something and pushes past, sending him stumbling into the path of another commuter who barges past again. He's caught in the flow of pedestrians, heart rate speeding up, and then he freezes as a door swings open and nearly hits him in the face. He has just enough time to make out the word _café_ on the door before he makes a split second decision, darting into the shop.

The inside of the café is mercifully quiet. The lights are lower, hanging lamps that cast warm yellow across the room. Several tables are scattered around, and a couple of baristas are making coffee behind the counter. The low hum of chatter fills the air, but it's minimal compared to the noise of the streets. He exhales in relief at the reprieve. The only discernible voice is coming from a small TV screen in the corner, playing a news broadcast. As he watches the news anchor pauses, and his face grows more solemn. "The search continues for missing Midtown Tech student Peter Parker, last seen in the Queens area thirty-six days ago. Authorities urge anyone with any information to come forward."

A picture flashes up on the screen of a grinning boy with brown curls and wide eyes as the anchor continues. There's a murmur from beside him, but all he can do is stare. The boy looks near-identical to one of the two on his phone screen, and he digs out the device to make sure. It's a perfect match, unruly hair and all. Peter Parker. Is that him?

"Hey, kid," someone says, putting a hand on his arm, and he jerks slightly. The hand falters and he turns to see a dark-haired woman bundled up against the cold. Her smile frays slightly, concern in her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he forces out. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You look a lot like that kid," she points out, and by now there's a crowd paying attention to them. "Do you need help? Can I call someone for you? "

"Is your leg alright?" someone else pipes up, an unfamiliar male voice.

"I - I don't know," he stammers. A wave of uncertainty washes over him as the café starts whispering, all of them staring at him. He feels trapped. "I have to go. I have to go," he repeats, and takes a faltering step backward. He hits someone else, and then he's pushing his way out of the door, elbowing and shoving his way through the still-hurrying commuters and walking away from that screen and those people as fast as he can with the pain in his bleeding leg. He doesn't get far before there's a shouted exclamation that stops him in his tracks.

" _Kid_!" comes a loud voice, and he whips around to see what looks like a _metal suit_ , painted red and gold, hovering right in front of him. His mouth drops open, and he glances around to see who the kid is. Everyone else in the street seems excited by the suit's presence, and some start pulling out cell phones. One kid on the other side of the street lets out a squeal and points to it.

"Hey! Eyes here!" the suit demands, and he turns back around.

"Me?" he asks uncertainly, pointing to his own chest, and suddenly the suit drops to the ground with a clank. He takes a step back as the metal retracts and fades away to his bewilderment, and then there's a middle-aged man stalking forward. His face is gaunt, his beard impeccable, his gaze caught between hardness and fear.

"What the hell, Peter? You disappear for a _month_ and that's what I get? Of _course_ I'm talking to you! You couldn't have come back, or called, or even sent a goddamn text to let us know you're alive? Do you know how worried May has been? Do you know how it felt when I only knew you were here because someone fucking _tweeted_ there was some kid in a café that looked like you? And what the hell happened to your leg?" His tone is angry now, firing off questions. " _Thirty-six_ days, Parker. Thirty-six -" The man cuts off, taking a deep breath and shutting his eyes.

Parker. So he is that missing kid. _Peter_ , he thinks to himself. It doesn't feel wrong, but it doesn't magically click into place either.

"You have about a minute to tell me exactly where you've been for the last month. Start talking," the man snaps, voice controlled. His mouth is tight.

"I don't -"

"No. No bullshit. This is not the time, Peter. _Where have you been_?"

He yells, "I can't _remember_!"

The man from the suit falters.

"Do you know me?" he - _Peter_ \- asks. "Do you know what happened? Because I don't, and -"

"Oh, God," the man murmurs. "Peter, who am I?"

Peter hesitates. He feels guilty for the look of fear on the other man's features, and he wishes he could get rid of it. "I'm sorry. I... I don't know."

" _Shit_." The man looks like he's barely holding it together, dark smudges under his eyes. The gauntness of his features is more pronounced now, making him look almost haggard. "I'm... shit. What do you remember?"

"Nothing," Peter says honestly. "Are you my dad?"

In his opinion, the question is entirely plausible. The photo of him on the TV bears resemblance to the man standing before him, and it stands to reason that, if Peter were his son, he would definitely be searching for him. Whatever reaction Peter is expecting, though, whatever answer, it's decidedly not this one. The guy makes a slight choking sound and goes silent for a second, at a loss for words.

"No," he says eventually.

"Oh."

"I'm your boss. Sort of. I... god _dammit_ ," he swears, mostly to himself. "My name is Tony Stark. You're my intern."

"Peter Parker. I think," Peter says, and Tony lets out a humorless laugh.

"So where are you going?" Tony asks, and that's when Peter realizes that suddenly the street has emptied. It's devoid of both the camera-wielding pedestrians and the busy commuters. The quiet is relieving.

"I don't know," Peter admits. "Away."

"From?"

"My, uh, picture came up on the news. Everyone was staring at me." It's a pathetic-sounding excuse now that he thinks about it.

Tony nods. "Okay. Fine. Look, kid, we... I think we should go back to my place. I have doctors there who can help you. For this, and the leg as well."

Peter's eyes narrow. "Doctors. At your house."

"It's not a house," Tony defends. "More like a... compound. It was your home, though. Second home. God, your life is confusing to explain, kid," he huffs, though there's the ghost of a smile behind his eyes.

Peter shrugs. "Fine."

"Fine?" Tony's voice is doubtful. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," Peter confirms. "I have nowhere else to go. And you seem to know my name, so... yeah."

Tony raises an eyebrow. "Okay, kid. Let's get you back to the Facility."

Peter glances around. "Are we getting a... taxi or something?" he asks, and Tony makes a face.

"Yeah, no," he says, and there's a clicking noise. The metal suit reappears, racing over Tony's form until he's covered in red and gold once again. "We'll go by air. It's faster, and we need to look at that leg as well."

Peter stares as his words sink in. Tony wants him to _fly_ to his place? Something in the back of his brain yells at him to be careful; the thought of being so far above the ground triggers panic. "No way," he says. He must have been afraid of heights, before, because now he is _terrified_ at the idea.

"Kid -"

"That's too high. I'm not going up." What if Tony drops him? Peter would fall so _far_ , with nothing to stop him slamming into the ground at full speed -

A hand on his shoulder jerks him out of his racing thoughts, and Peter refocuses on the man in front of him. "It's okay, Pete," Tony tells him, gaze firm, the suit retracted once again. His grip is strangely comforting. "If you don't want to fly we won't. Just give me a second to make a call."

He restrains the urge to apologize as Tony takes a step back, pulling out a sleek phone from his pocket. Peter glances down at his own; they're the same model.

"Hey, Happy," Tony says after a brief pause. "You busy? We need a ride." Another beat of silence. "Yeah. Yeah, I did. I need to get him back to the Facility. We're near the corner of Columbia and Rivington. Yeah, Lower East Side." Peter fidgets slightly. "He doesn't want to." The person on the other end speaks again, and Tony falls silent. "Thanks, Hap. And listen, just... don't push it. Discreet, okay? You'll see what I mean," he adds, after a non-too-subtle glance at Peter.

Tony hangs up, and turns back to Peter. "Who was that?" he asks.

"His name is Happy. He's going to drive us," Tony explains. "He'll be about twenty minutes."

Peter nods. "Cool." A sense of awkwardness rises, and he feels the need to fill the silence. "Thanks, Tony," he says, and the man freezes.

"No problem," he answers eventually, though his voice is tight.

"So, uh... what's the story behind the metal suit?" Peter asks.

Tony pauses. "It's a long one," he warns, "but the short of it is that I'm an Avenger. A superhero."

"Oh. That's why everyone was taking photos."

"Yeah," Tony confirms.

"How do I know a superhero?" Peter asks, and Tony hesitates.

He pauses before saying, "I also own a pretty big tech company. You're my intern there."

Peter nods. Tony doesn't say anything else, and he finds himself at a loss for words. They slip into silence, standing slightly apart, looking in opposite directions. Peter tries to ignore the throbbing pain in his leg while they wait.

After what feels like an eternity of pressurized silence, Tony tapping at his phone once or twice, a black car pulls up in front of them. The front window rolls down to reveal a round-faced man in a black suit, who gets out quickly and visibly tries not to stare at Peter.

"Hey, Hap," Tony greets.

"Tony," Happy replies, and Peter can't help but think how badly the man's name fits him. The expression on his face is carefully blank; far from happy. He crosses to the back of the car and opens the door as Tony gestures in.

"There you go, kid. Get in," he says, and Peter glances between them once before taking a breath and climbing in. The back of the car is surprisingly roomy, the seats soft beneath him. It's a far cry from the rock-hard roof he woke up on. Peter lets out a sigh as he sinks into the material. He looks to the right, towards Happy and Tony, waiting for the latter to get in. Instead, though, the door shuts in his face.

"I'm not coming back with you," comes Tony's faint, hushed voice from outside, and Peter strains to listen. "I'll meet you there."

"Wait - Tony, what happened to him?" asks Happy. "What's wrong?"

"He's forgotten, Happy. Forgotten me, forgotten May, forgotten _himself_. I can't - I need a minute."

"Tony, you serious? How?"

"I don't know. He doesn't either."

Happy swears, a muffled curse that Peter can't pick up. "He's still _Peter_. You can't abandon him, Tony."

"I'm _not_ ," Tony argues. "I just can't do this. This one journey, right here."

There's a pause before Happy speaks again. "What do I say to him?"

"I don't know, Hap. Just... don't overwhelm him. I'll get Cho ready for when you get back."

Happy sighs. "Okay, Tony."

There's a barely-audible click from outside, and Peter recognizes it as the sound of the suit appearing. There's a whir and then a whoosh, and the noise grows further away. He hears Happy sigh and open the front door.

"Let's get you to the Tower, then, kid," he says, mostly to himself, and looks back at Peter. "You got everything you need?"

Peter doesn't know what he should ask for, or what he should need, so he just nods awkwardly. Happy turns back around and starts the engine without another word.

The car pulls away, the slight vibration thrumming through Peter's bones. The windows either side of him are tinted so he can't see out of them, so he just stares into the blackness. Tony _left_ rather than talk to him. The way he talked to Happy seemed like he was upset by Peter's state, but he left as soon as he could. Tony is hiding something. If Peter can't get it out of him, he needs to find out who May is, and maybe track down the other boy in his phone wallpaper. They look around the same age, so maybe he's one of Peter's classmates? The news broadcast mentioned Midtown Tech, so he'll start there. He needs to find out what happened to him, and then maybe he can fix it. Peter pulls out his phone again, looking at the passcode screen. There's another mystery he needs to solve; his phone is likely to hold more clues.

The car continues onward, and Peter stares into the dark window as he tries to figure out his next move.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so, so much for your lovely comments and kudos! i wasn't expecting you guys to like this so much, so it's absolutely wonderful you do. you all made my day!
> 
> (and a belated merry christmas to those who celebrate!)

When Tony saw the tweet, he could swear he stopped breathing for a second.

 _ **bring back spidey**_ _@JessicaDrew_

_hey @NYPD7Pct i think i just saw that missing midtown kid in @FeastCafe in the lower east side? idk what else to say but there u go_

There was a picture attached, of a lost, tattered-looking boy with dark curls and a shell-shocked expression.

Tony's first thought, despite himself, was _who the hell_ tweets _a missing person sighting?_

The second was the realization that the missing person was Peter, the photo looked just like him, and _his kid was alive._ It took him seconds to sprint out of the Tower, the suit assembling around him as he jumped from the roof. The thundering heartbeat in his ears made him go faster and faster, FRIDAY flashing up a warning about his speed roughly halfway through the journey. It took him under two minutes to cover the twenty-minute car ride, forcing his acceleration to the maximum.

" _Kid_!" he'd yelled, shoving away his confusion at why Peter was wandering around aimlessly. He didn't get a response, though, the kid glancing around as if ignoring him. "Hey! Eyes here!"

"Me?" Peter asked, frowning slightly, and Tony lost his cool. It was _not_ the time for some shitty prank, not when he'd been missing for a month, and Tony let his flash of anger cover up the rising worry in his gut.

"What the hell, Peter?" he began, and then he just kept yelling. Peter's face was oddly blank throughout the exchange, but Tony just pushed forward.

It was only when Peter shouted back that Tony faltered, and stopped. "I can't _remember_!"

Tony has had nightmares ever since New York. His therapist diagnosed him with PTSD a year or so afterward, and gave Tony some techniques to help him. They'd shifted, though, once that damn spider-kid had shoved himself into Tony's life, and they started to focus on Peter. Most nights, still, Tony's dreams take the form of Peter getting hurt. After the Vulture debacle, Tony had dreamed of Spider-Man dying without the suit, all because he took it away. He'd imagined Peter getting crushed under that damn building, getting shot, drowning, falling, fading into nothingness, night after night after night.

Never, though, had he imagined this scenario. Losing what makes Peter _Peter_ so completely. It was worse than the nightmares because it was _real_ , and it was Tony's fault, and he had struggled to squash down the rising panic threatening to overtake him. The rest of the conversation was blurred for him, save for when Peter thanked him.

"Thanks, Tony," the kid had said, and his blood went cold. _Tony_. Peter never called him that, no matter how many times Tony told him to. It was always _Mr. Stark_.

Happy arrived not long after, and Tony just left. He couldn't spend more time alone with that strangely blank face, missing all the warmth and the excitement of Peter Parker. Happy had tried to convince him to stay, telling him it was still Peter: and, God, Tony _knew_ that. He did, and yet he couldn't bring himself to accept it. So Tony did what he was best at, and ran.

He touched down soon after, the flight a haze in his mind, and set to preparing. Once he'd sold the Avengers Tower he moved into the New Avengers Facility, where most of them lived until Siberia. After they'd changed the terms of the Accords, putting the Avengers instead of the UN in charge of all superhero activities as an independent organization, tasked with keeping track of superhumans and licensing vigilante activity, Steve and his team had signed and returned to the compound. Tony tried not to think about the fact that Barnes came back too. Barton’s house arrest ended early, though he still made sure he went to see his family regularly, living in halves between the Facility and his farm. Lang stayed with his family. Natasha came in from the cold. Wanda and Vision decided to go on holiday for an extended period, and Rhodes broke the news to Tony that he was staying as the UN-Avengers liaison and could only spend bits of his time in the compound. Peter spent a good chunk of his time in the Facility, as well, though he lived mostly with May during school. Wednesdays were their internship days, and sometimes he slept over, but May had cracked down harder on Peter staying the night ever since he and Tony had watched all the Star Wars films in a row and he'd slept through the whole next day of school. Bruce turned up about a week later from deep space with a ship full of people, including Thor, who told them about the destruction of Asgard. Thor took the refugees with him to relocate, though Bruce stayed behind. Other than the Avengers, the most notable permanent resident of the compound is one Dr. Helen Cho, master of biotechnology and accomplished genetic scientist.

It's Helen who Tony is going to see now, arms crossed tightly as he rides down the elevator to her sublevel.

"Keep it together, Stark," he mutters, tapping a finger against his forearm. Cho will look at Peter and tell Tony off for overreacting, and then fix him up like she always does when something goes badly wrong. _This is just a blip_ , he tells himself.

" _Sublevel four_ ," FRIDAY announces, and the lift slows to a stop.

The doors slide open smoothly and Tony strides out. The lab stretching before him is large and bright, fluorescent lights illuminating the ordered rows of workbenches. A few scientists look up as he enters, but Tony ignores them and heads straight for the other side of the room. Cho's office is there, a glass-walled private space for whatever she wants to work on. As he draws closer he sees what looks like a half-assembled version of the Cradle, Cho and Bruce talking animatedly above it. He recalls Cho telling him that she was working on a new, more efficient system to help heal specific injuries instead of a blanket fix. Tony pushes the door open without warning.

Bruce cuts off mid-sentence, frowning. "Hey, Tony," he greets. "Everything okay?"

Tony swallows. "I need your help, Helen," he says, and the doctor's face pales slightly. Tony's aware he never calls her Helen: it's always Cho, or Doc. This situation is serious, though, and he needs her to understand.

She nods once. "Let's go." Tony turns and she follows, marching back towards the elevator as Bruce lags behind slightly. "What happened?"

"We found Peter," he answers, trying not to let his hands shake as he thinks about it.

"Oh my God," Bruce breathes. "Is he okay? Is he -"

Tony rips off the Band-Aid. "He has amnesia. He's forgotten everything." They reach the elevator, and Tony looks up. "FRIDAY, medbay."

They start ascending, and Tony turns his head to see that Cho is looking at him with pity in her eyes. He should be grateful, but he hates that she feels the need to baby him. "We'll take a look at him. Stay calm, Stark."

Tony nods once, twice, and glances at the floor. The elevator ride is short; the medbay is only a floor above Cho's labs. The doctor and Bruce step out of the elevator as FRIDAY announces, " _Sublevel three, medbay_."

"We'll get the room ready, and I'll prepare some simple tests," she tells Tony. "Just get him here as fast as you can."

Bruce nods beside her. "We'll fix him, Tony."

Tony doesn't miss the regretful look that Cho shoots Bruce as the doors before him close.

When he reaches the foyer, he spends about ten minutes pacing irregularly and trying not to catastrophize. His therapist put Tony's fatalistic thinking patterns among his top priorities to be aware of, so he's learned mechanisms and techniques to calm himself down and utilizes them to the full as he paces. Still, though, he can't help rehashing Cho's look in his mind. What did she mean? Is there hope for Peter? The kid was strangely apathetic when Tony found him; will he want to regain his memories? He's hyper-aware that his thoughts are spiraling out of control, but he can't do a damn thing about it until he's broken out of them by the front doors opening.

Tony looks up to see Happy holding the doors for Peter, who walks through with a half-awed, half-intimidated expression as he stares around at the building.

"Pete, you made it," Tony calls, and Peter's gaze snaps to him.

"Hi," he says, with none of the infectious joy typical of Peter Parker. Tony's gut twists.

He nods at Happy, who mouths _still the kid_ before closing the doors again and leaving. Tony's attention turns back to Peter, and he leads the kid after him back towards the elevator. "We're going three floors down," he explains, "and we'll take a look at you. That alright?"

Peter steps inside and nods.

"Sublevel three, FRIDAY," Tony says.

"Who are you talking to?" Peter asks, frowning as the doors close and the lift accelerates.

"My AI," Tony tells him. "Her name is FRIDAY. She governs the building."

Peter nods, brow still furrowed. "Okay," he says. He fidgets slightly, and Tony sees the edge of a phone protruding from his back pocket. He frowns. The corner he can see is smashed, near-opaque with glassy cracks.

"What happened to the phone, kid?" he asks.

Peter's eyes shoot over to him. "I, uh... don't know."

"Want me to take a look at it?" Tony offers. He desperately needs something to _do_ , to take his mind off the situation.

"Sure," Peter says uncertainly, and hands the device over. It's, indeed, as destroyed as he suspected. Tony pockets it.

FRIDAY chooses that exact moment to speak. " _Sublevel three, medbay_ ," she informs, and Peter flinches before staring upwards.

The doors open. Tony steps out.

" _Welcome back, Peter_ ," FRIDAY adds, and the expression on Peter's face changes from surprise to outright shock.

"Thanks, FRI," Tony mutters. "This way, kid."

Peter turns to face Tony and, by extension, Cho and Bruce.

"Hi, Peter," Cho begins, holding out a hand. "My name is Dr. Helen Cho. I'll be the one examining you today."

"Uh," Peter says eloquently, shaking her hand, seemingly at a loss of what to say when she already knows his name. "Nice to meet you."

"This is Dr. Bruce Banner. He'll be assisting me."

Bruce smiles at Peter and shakes his hand again. "Hey, Peter."

"Hi," Peter answers.

"So," Tony says, clapping his hands. "You okay here, kid?"

Something unidentifiable passes across Peter's face before he hides it. "I think so," he replies.

"Good. I'll be out of your hair, then -"

"Hang on, Tony," Bruce cuts in. "Can I talk to you? Quickly?"

Tony nods. "Sure. Have fun," he adds, to Cho.

She gives him a smile. "Thank you."

Tony walks back to the elevator again, Bruce following behind.

The doors are half-closed when Cho says, "If it's okay, Peter, I'd like to start with a quick recall test."

"So," Bruce begins, once the doors are shut and the lift has whirred to life. "He's back."

"Yup," Tony says, the rest of the words dry in his mouth. Panic flutters in his chest again. He can feel his facade slipping. Peter's phone burns a hole in his pocket.

"How are you feeling?"

"Does it matter?"

Bruce gives him a sideways look. "Of course it matters. He's basically your kid, Tony, and -"

"It doesn't matter how I feel," Tony interrupts tightly, "because that will help precisely _nobody_. This is all about Peter."

"It's okay to be upset. Or scared. I don't know what you're feeling, Tony, but it's not nothing. You're allowed to be scared for your kid," Bruce points out.

_Stark men are made of iron._

Tony's jaw clenches. "I'm fine, Bruce."

There's silence for a brief pause, before FRIDAY pipes up. " _Sublevel seven_."

"Okay, Tony," Bruce says, and the elevator opens onto Tony's personal lab. He steps forward. "Just... talk to me if you need to. Talk to anyone. Okay?"

Tony doesn't respond, and moments later he hears the telltale swoosh of the doors shutting. He turns to see the indicator showing Bruce has gone to sublevel six, the communal floor. It's probably a good idea; Bruce likely wants someone to talk to after Tony's standoffishness.

A light beeping noise draws Tony's attention, and he turns to see Dum-E waving an arm at him.

"Hey, idiot," he says, sitting down at the bench in front of his creation.

 _Beep beep_. Dum-E waves again, moving his body fully in a circular fashion. There's a loud clunking noise. Tony frowns. Dum-E moves to the left again and the motor jams halfway through, making another clunk.

"Oh, I get it," Tony murmurs. "Stuck joint, huh? C'mon then. Let's fix you up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed! this will be updated on a regular schedule every three days, so see you then!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're back to peter again - hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

Peter does not feel safe around Dr. Helen Cho.

It's ridiculous; he's aware. She's only trying to help him, and he's seen nothing to make him suspicious, but something about her just puts him on edge. It might be the piercing, unavoidable stare, he reflects, or maybe the _mad doctor_ -esque white lab coat. Either way, when Tony abandons him again and Bruce follows him out Peter feels himself tense.

"If it's okay, Peter," Cho begins, "I'd like to start with a quick recall test."

Peter nods. "Sure."

She leads him to a table in the corner of the room, and gestures for him to sit down while she drags over another chair. There's a tablet in her hand, which she sets in front of them.

"First, I'd like to look at your ability to retain information. I'll show you a sequence of colors, and then I'd like you to repeat them back to me." When Peter doesn't look confused, she continues, tapping the screen.

"First sequence."

Red flashes up, then green, then blue, and finally yellow.

"Red, green, blue, yellow," Peter recites.

Cho nods. "Good. Second sequence."

"Blue, green, red, red, yellow, green."

"Third sequence."

"Red, blue, red, yellow, blue, and... purple?"

"That's correct. Final sequence."

"Green, red, yellow, blue, blue, red, blue, yellow, green."

"Perfect," Cho remarks, smiling. "Well done. Next, I'll test recall from... your life," she says, and Peter can only hear a small hesitation in her words. "If the test gets distressing at any point, please tell me."

There's a lump in Peter's throat suddenly. "Okay," he says, swallowing.

Cho takes the tablet and taps several times before replacing it. The photo on the screen is of a middle-aged woman, smiling widely, with long brown hair and a pair of dangerously-positioned glasses on the tip of her nose. "Can you tell me who this is, Peter?"

"No," he says, searching the woman's face for clues he can't find.

The next picture is the other boy in his phone screen. The photo is slightly blurry, less official-looking than the previous.

"No. I've seen him, though," Peter blurts.

Cho looks at him sharply. "Where?"

"He's in my phone wallpaper," he replies lamely.

The doctor nods, the alert look in her eyes fading slightly. "Alright. What about him?"

A picture of Tony wearing sunglasses flashes up onto the screen.

"Tony Stark," says Peter.

"How long have you known him for?"

"This morning."

Cho hums. "Next image."

A woman with a short blonde bob and a smile to rival Happy's appears.

"No."

A bearded, muscular man with dark blond hair is next.

"No."

The following picture is of a similar suit to Tony's earlier, though it looks like it could be an earlier version.

"Tony's suit?" Peter tries.

"Good," Cho tells him. "Can you tell me Tony's identity while in the suit?"

Peter frowns, unsure what she means. "No. I don't think so."

Cho hums slightly, and the next photo appears. It's a slim red-haired woman with a dazzling smile and a sleek business suit.

"No."

Someone in red and blue spandex, a small emblem in the center of their chest shows up.

"No."

The final picture is Happy.

"Well done," Cho says. "Do you know his last name?"

Peter frowns. "No," he tells her, hating how useless he sounds. All he has to do is _remember_.

"That's fine," she says. "You've done well. I just have one final question. From the initial color sequence tests, what was the fifth color besides red, blue, yellow and green?"

"Purple," Peter says, slightly hesitantly, and Cho smiles.

"Thank you, Peter. We're done with that section," she tells him. "Now, we'll move on to the physical exam. It'll be a lot shorter than the memory testing, I can promise you, and non-invasive. Is that alright?"

Peter nods. It's not like he has a choice, anyway.

Cho isn't as talkative by any means during the physical. She does a full-length scan of Peter's upper body with some kind of laser tool, then examines his head more thoroughly. He can feel her messing around with his hair to reveal what's underneath, which she prods several times. Eventually, she stops and steps back. She opens her mouth to speak, but suddenly her gaze catches on Peter's leg. Her eyes narrow before she drops to the ground, crouching and examining it.

"How did I not notice this?" she mutters to herself. Peter winces when she rolls up his jeans to reveal the wound, pain lancing through his calf. It's a small, angry-looking hole, crusted over with dried blood. The injury is half-closed and its shape is irregular. Peter's eyes widen. "Are you in pain?"

"Not much. Is that a bullet wound?" he asks Cho, who pauses for a second before standing up.

"I believe so," she says, and points to the room adjoining where they are. Peter can see several sterile-looking beds spaced out across the wall. "Lay down, please."

Peter obeys, pneumatic doors swishing open for him as he approaches, while Cho grabs a rectangular white box and joins him. She produces a small bottle of liquid and a bandage, as well as a pair of forceps and a small packet. In her other hand is a kidney dish. She places it just beside Peter's foot and rips open the packet to reveal a cloth.

"What's that?" Peter asks.

"It's a mild anesthetic," she replies, eyes focused as she begins to swab the cloth across his leg. It's cold, and Peter's skin tingles slightly. "Fast-acting, and it wears off quickly, but it'll do perfectly for now. Please be warned, though, the next part may still sting."

Peter watches as she discards the cloth and picks up the forceps, pressing her fingers around the wound. A tiny spurt of pain races away from it. He hisses. Cho eyes the hole for a second.

"The bullet's still in one piece," she murmurs. "Good sign."

Without warning, Cho plunges the forceps into Peter's leg and he yelps at the sudden sensation. She pauses for a second, and Peter can almost feel the metal _moving_ inside the injury, before she deftly removes it. There's a bullet held securely between the ends of the forceps. Peter's eyes go wide.

"It is a bullet. Who would shoot _me_?" he mutters aloud. Who was Peter Parker to get _shot_ at?

Cho shakes her head. "I couldn't say," she answers. Peter wonders whether to tell her it was rhetorical. "The hard part is over, now," she tells him.

The final stage of Cho's treatment involves the bottle.

"Saline solution," she explains, and uses it to flush out the wound. Though the liquid stings, it's remarkably cooling. Peter hadn't noticed how inflamed his leg was until now. Once it's clean, Cho wraps the wound in bandages.

"Aren't you going to use stitches?" Peter asks doubtfully. Though he's infinitely less knowledgeable than Cho in medical matters, he knows enough to suspect that she should probably fix the open hole in his leg.

Cho hesitates. "This solution will help you heal faster than usual. Stitches are unnecessary." Her tone wavers slightly at the end of her sentence. Peter does not believe her. "The wound is properly dressed now, though, and it doesn't seem to be causing you pain or hindering movement. It should heal up well by itself."

"Thanks," Peter tells her.

Cho smiles. "My pleasure."

In that moment, there's motion at the elevator. Both Cho and Peter look up to see Tony walking towards them.

"Ah, here comes Stark. I'll be back shortly," she tells Peter. "Stay put."

She strides away, nodding at Tony as she steps out of the room Peter's in.

"How's he looking, Cho?" Peter hears Tony say clearly before the door slides shut, and the glass wall separating them dims and turns opaque.

"I've treated the wound in his leg," comes Cho's voice, and Peter realizes he can still hear her. Just like with Happy and Tony outside the car, somehow his hearing is better than these people take it for. He probably shouldn't listen, but... these people are hiding something from him. With Cho's odd deflection and Tony's strange reactions, he feels justified in trying to investigate. "He was shot shortly before you found him, only around several hours earlier."

"Christ," Tony sighs. "Anything else wrong? Physically?"

A brief pause. Peter guesses Cho's shaking her head. "Aside from minor signs of exhaustion and several miscellaneous bruises, no. I don't know where he was, or what happened to him, but either he's had time to heal or he wasn't injured in the first place."

Tony takes a deep breath, lowering his voice. Peter strains to listen. "Okay. And what about the... memory thing?"

"It's clear he's suffering from retrograde amnesia," Cho's hushed voice says. "It's a type of amnesia characterized by loss of prior memories, but -"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm not a preschooler. I know what retrograde means. You have your _complications_ face on, so tell me what they are," Tony interrupts. "Sorry," he adds a beat later, sounding cowed, and Peter imagines Cho giving him some raised eyebrow to shut him up.

The doctor continues straight from where she left off. "Peter doesn't seem to have trouble creating new memories, suggesting he has a form of pure retrograde amnesia. I didn't find any signs of head trauma, however, which suggests that something else could be going on. It may be, at least in part, psychogenic."

Silence falls for a second before Cho continues.

"I can't see a physical barrier for Peter's memories to return," she elaborates. "It's likely that, somewhere within his mind, something in him doesn't _want_ to come back. Something psychological is causing the amnesia."

There's a pause. "Oh," is all Tony says.

"I'm sorry, Stark. There's nothing I can do."

Peter takes a breath. _Psychogenic_. It's his fault he can't remember.

"Dammit," Tony says softly. "Thank you for trying. I... shit."

"I'll contact some of my associates studying neurology," Cho offers, "but there is a chance Peter's memories will be hard, if not impossible, to recover. You should start re-introducing him to his life. This may be permanent."

"Yeah. God. I've already contacted May, so... _Christ_." Tony's vocabulary seems to have been reduced to mostly curses by this point. It makes him doubt the man's story even further; he wouldn't get this worked up over some intern.

"Go see him, Stark," Cho says softly. "He deserves to have you stay in his life."

Tony lets out a brief laugh. "Ignoring how wrong that statement is, I don't know if I can see him. It's my fault this happened in the first place."

"Stark -"

"I know, I know. I say that all the time, but... fuck. This time it's true." Tony sounds defeated, and Peter is suddenly hit with a wave of guilt. He should not be listening to this conversation.

There's a pause, presumably while Cho waits for Tony to elaborate. When he doesn't talk, she sighs. "If that's all, I'm going to return to my patient." Her tone is layered with disdain.

"Great," says Tony.

"You need to talk to him at some point," Cho warns. "Goodbye, Stark."

That's when the door opens and the doctor comes back in, and Peter tries very hard to pretend he wasn't listening.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first off, happy new year to everyone reading!
> 
> second, there was a problem with the dates of uploaded chapters - the whole fic was showing as having not been updated since first posted. i've fixed the issue now, and all future chapters should post correctly, so apologies if you missed an update or two!
> 
> without further ado, i hope you enjoy this chapter - and the reappearance of another of peter's significant acquaintances!

Cho re-enters the room and perches on the edge of the bed, and smiles at him. It's a bad-news smile, half-consolatory and half-pitying. "Hi, Peter." 

"Hi," he says quietly.

She takes a breath, and gives it to him straight. "I believe the best thing to do currently is to tell what I've just told Tony. You have a condition known as retrograde amnesia."

She keeps talking, but Peter's already heard it when she told Tony. His mind drifts instead. What did Tony mean when he said Peter's memory loss was his fault? Did he cause it? Cho talked about staying in Peter's life, so Tony must surely be someone of importance to him already. Tony reacted very oddly when Peter asked if he was his dad. There must be a connection.

"Peter?" comes a voice, and Peter comes back to the present to see Cho staring at him.

"Sorry," he blurts. "I was... uh, just thinking."

Cho nods. "I understand. It can be a lot to take in, but I have some strategies to help you."

She sets down a small notebook and pen in front of Peter. He picks it up. It's light but sturdy, with a firm spine. The whole thing is dark blue, with lighter red accents. The pen is pure scarlet. Peter clicks it once, then again.

"Many amnesia patients find stability in answering all their questions. If you have a question, write it down. You can add the answer underneath for the future, if you want, or just write questions to ask."

"Thank you," Peter says, and he means it. He's genuinely surprised by Cho's generosity. "Did I know you? Before?" he asks, and Cho shakes her head.

"We came into contact in passing, but we were never introduced. I have patched you up a few times after... internship accidents, though," she adds, smiling slightly. "But I digress. Keep the notebook. I hope it helps you. If you find yourself experiencing any unexplained symptoms or relapses, either forgetting further or remembering past events, please come and see me."

"I will," Peter says, and she nods. Her smile grows.

"Good luck, Peter," she says. "Did Stark show you where your room is?" When he shakes his head, she tuts. "Of course not. FRIDAY?"

" _Yes, Dr. Cho_?" comes the robotic voice from the elevator. She's gratingly loud to Peter's ears, but, to his credit, he doesn't react nearly as violently this time. It probably helps that she's not saying inexplicable hellos to him this time.

"Could you direct Peter to his living quarters?" Cho asks.

FRIDAY's tone is pleasant, almost pleased. " _Of course_ ," she replies.

"Thank you, FRIDAY." Turning to Peter, Cho tells him, "That's FRIDAY. I'm sure you'll learn more about her if you want to, but for now just follow her directions to your room."

"Okay," Peter says, nodding. "Thank you," he says again, at a slight loss for words. What can he say to a woman he's only just met, but has already dug a bullet out of him and diagnosed him with a life-changing condition.

She gives him an amused look. "It's no problem, Peter."

With that, FRIDAY speaks up. " _Please enter the elevator, Peter_ ," she requests, and he does so. The doors close and block Cho from sight as the elevator starts descending.

"FRIDAY?" Peter asks tentatively.

" _Yes, Peter_?" Her voice is strangely soothing, despite its artificial undertone. " _How can I help_?"

"Who are you?" he asks.

" _I believe Boss explained I am his creation. I am an artificial intelligence designed to help run both this facility and Boss' suits_."

"Huh," Peter muses. Boss must be Tony, but it's interesting he has an AI with him in the suits. "Did you know me?"

" _I did_ ," FRIDAY tells him. " _We were well acquainted_."

"Am I actually Tony Stark's intern?"

FRIDAY hesitates for a split-second. _"Yes,"_ she answers. " _You have helped him on numerous projects_."

Peter nods. His senses picked up that tiny moment of silence. "Okay."

FRIDAY doesn't say anything else until the elevator slows to a stop. " _Sublevel five_ ," she announces. " _Your room is third on the right, Peter. You'll find clean clothes in the bureau, and you can put dirty clothing in the laundry basket. Please let me know if you have any other problems_."

"Thanks," Peter says, and starts walking. This level is a long corridor, with numerous doors spread along it. He looks at the name tags as he passes. _Natasha Romanov. Tony Stark. Steve Rogers. Sam Wilson_. And there, third on the right, _Peter Parker_.

He pushes the door open hesitantly, not sure what to expect, and steps inside. Peter's room is what he imagines most teenagers' would look like, if not slightly tidier. Posters cover the blue walls, from what seem to be video games to what he assumes are movies. A common variant is on something called _Star Wars_ , with roughly half of the posters just about that. A medium-sized wardrobe sits flush against the wall, opposite a bed complete with red duvet. A phone is on the bed, and when Peter picks it up he realizes it's his. Tony already fixed it, though the fingerprint scanner looks like it's still broken. He pockets it, resolving to try and solve the passcode later. A desk in the corner of the room is currently covered in paper and pens, as well as a closed laptop, a booklet open in the middle. Peter picks it up. His name is scrawled in uneven handwriting across the top, and the title reads _Configurational Isomers in Cyclic Compounds_. Surprisingly, though he can't remember studying it, the topic makes sense. He finds himself nodding along to the notes like they're already familiar in his mind. The booklet is filled with annotations, calculations, and comments, and when he turns the third page a scrap of paper falls out. He bends to pick it up, unfurling the creases, and nearly gasps when it's unfolded. It's a hyper-realistic drawing of himself, bent over a notepad with an expression of intense concentration. The artist has shaded his outline, sunlight shining on him from above and casting the paper into low shadow. Peter can't imagine how long it must have taken. A scribble in the corner reads _To Loser, From MJ_. He assumes he's Loser, since he's got the sketch, but he wonders who MJ could be. Maybe the kid in his phone wallpaper?

FRIDAY's comment about clothes resurfaces in his mind then, and Peter goes over to the wardrobe. An array of clothing hangs inside, and Peter's drawn to the collection of T-shirts to one side. There's a pizza shirt next to a joke about electrons, and a top reading _if you believe in telekinesis, please raise my hand_. Peter grins at that one, and takes it out along with a clean pair of jeans. He changes quickly, grimacing only slightly when his tight jeans pull at Cho's bandage, and dumps his bloodied possessions into the laundry basket FRIDAY indicates to him.

Peter realizes that he's still holding his notebook. He could use it to ask questions, like Cho suggested, but an alternative use pops into his head. He could use it to solve the mystery of Peter Parker.

The bed is soft when he sits on it cross-legged, firm enough beneath him that he doesn't sink but pillowy enough to be comfy. He opens the notebook to the first page, and clicks his pen.

_What happened?_ he writes, underlining the question. It's the main mystery he needs to solve right now.

_What's the phone code?_

_Who is May?_

_Who is the boy in the phone wallpaper?_

_What is Tony hiding?_

_Why is my amnesia his fault?_

_What are Cho/FRIDAY hiding when they act weird?_

_Who are the people in Cho's test?_

_Sketch - who is MJ?_

By the time Peter is done writing down everything he's trying to find, he's got a neat little list of questions. He pauses for a minute, trying to think through them, but comes up with nothing. After another glance at the room, he decides to do more digging. The notebook shuts with a clack.

There's a pinboard on the wall with a collection of photos secured onto it, and Peter sees himself in almost all of them. Tony is in several, a grudgingly smiling Happy in a few, and he spots the boy from his phone wallpaper in a couple. One of them is just Peter and the boy, grinning widely next to an imposing masked figure in flowing black. They're both wearing lanyards, and Peter recognizes the top he's wearing in the picture as the one he's in now. He reaches up for it and unpins the photo carefully, turning it over. _Peter and Ned, Comic-Con 2017_ , reads neat lettering on the back. From the difference in style to the homework, Peter guesses it's not his writing.

"Ned," Peter says to himself, flipping the photo back over and staring. It's definitely the same kid. He has another lead.

_~~Who is the boy in the phone wallpaper?~~ Who is Ned?_

His attention turns to the laptop still sitting on his desk, and he crosses over to boot it up. The same symbol from his and Tony's phones appears on the screen as it initializes, and soon Peter's facing another sign-in page. This time, though, he sees a fingerprint scanner to the right of the mouse pad. Peter only hesitates for a second before trying his finger, and then the screen unlocks and he's in.

There are a couple of folders on the desktop. One is labeled _School_ , and Peter decides to put that off for now. The other, though, reads _Internship_. When he double-clicks it, the files are password-protected and he nearly groans.

_Password for Internship files?_

An icon at the bottom of the screen catches his eye, though, and Peter quickly opens up the web browser. He only takes a second to think before he searches up _peter parker midtown tech_. Immediately, his own face flashes up. It's accompanied by multiple missing person reports and news outlets that have picked up the story. Peter realizes soon that he's not going to uncover much if all he can see are various articles are about his disappearance, so he furrows his brow slightly.

_"ned" peter parker midtown tech_

The first result is an article entitled _New York School Wins National Competition_. Peter clicks and the page opens up, displaying a photo next to a story about an academic decathlon, won by a team from the Midtown School of Science and Technology. He scrutinizes the photo. He and Ned are off to the side, smiling widely. A pretty girl is in the center, holding a large trophy aloft, next to a guy who Peter guesses is their teacher. Another girl with dark hair, looking surprisingly bored, is on the opposite edge of the picture. They're all in yellow jackets save for one boy in the back glaring daggers at Peter's head. He wonders if that's MJ, looking as he does like he'd definitely call Peter _loser_ , though he assumes someone looking that pissed off wouldn't take the time to draw him. Peter saves the picture and returns to his home screen.

There's another application on the desktop called WhatsApp. Peter double-clicks it and it expands to fill the screen. Multiple contacts fill the page, with worried messages from everyone recent. He sees Michelle Jones (is that the elusive MJ?), Cindy Moon, Happy Hogan, Ned Leeds -

_Ned_. Peter opens their conversation. He has numerous unread messages from him.

 

_Ned Leeds, 6:37pm_

_Yo Peter, you up?_

 

_Ned Leeds, 6:58pm_

_I'm so bored what are you up to_

 

_Ned Leeds, 7:09pm_

_Are you out?? like out out??_

 

_Ned Leeds, 7:13pm_

_Do you need your guy in the chair?_

 

_Ned Leeds, 9:01pm_

_Ok I'm going to sleep_

 

_Ned Leeds, 9:05pm_

_Unless you actually need your guy_

 

_Ned Leeds, 10:17pm_

_Ok then I'm actually sleeping now see you tomorrow_

 

_Ned Leeds, 7:33am_

_Peter are you asleep again_

 

_Ned Leeds, 7:52am_

_Warren is going to kill you where are you??_

 

_Ned Leeds, 2:03pm_

_Ok Peter Im getting super worried are you ok_

 

_Ned Leeds, 5:27pm_

_If you dont reply Im calling may_

 

_Ned Leeds, 7:38pm_

_Peter please please reply if you can see this_

 

_Ned Leeds, 7:38pm_

_May doesnt know where you are_

 

_Ned Leeds, 7:39pm_

_Please let us know youre ok_

 

The messages carry on in a similar way, through most of the month Tony said Peter was missing. Ned's responses range from outright desperate to jokey to panicky. From the conversation, Ned and Peter are clearly very close friends. If he can ask anyone about his phone code, it's probably Ned.

~~_Who is Ned?_~~

Peter only hesitates for a second before typing a reply.

 

_Peter Parker, 1:02pm_

_Hey Ned, I'm really sorry for worrying you_

 

_Peter Parker, 1:02pm_

_I'll explain everything later but I have an emergency right now_

 

_Peter Parker, 1:02pm_

_Do you know my phone passcode? I forgot and I really need it_

 

_Ned Leeds, 1:03pm_

_HOLY SHIT PETER_

 

_Ned Leeds, 1:03pm_

_YOURE ALIVE_

 

_Ned Leeds, 1:03pm_

_WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME_

 

_Ned Leeds, 1:03pm_

_WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ANYONE ELSE_

 

_Ned Leeds, 1:03pm_

_DOES MAY KNOW_

 

_Peter Parker, 1:03pm_

_Ned I'm sorry_

 

_Ned Leeds, 1:03pm_

_Call me right now I need to hear that youre actually ok_

 

_Peter Parker, 1:04pm_

_I promise I'll explain everything later but I really need that code_

 

_Peter Parker, 1:04pm_

_It's an emergency_

 

_Ned Leeds, 1:04pm_

_Is it THAT kind of emergency?_

 

Peter makes a face at the computer. What constitutes as _that kind_?

 

_Ned Leeds, 1:05pm_

_Do you need a guy??_

 

_Peter Parker, 1:05pm_

_No_

 

Ned goes silent for a few seconds, and Peter bites his lip.

 

_Ned Leeds, 1:06pm_

_Damn ok_

 

_Ned Leeds, 1:06pm_

_Are you ok? Bc you sound really weird_

 

_Peter Parker, 1:06pm_

_I'm fine I just need the phone code_

 

_Ned Leeds, 1:06pm_

_Jeez ok_

 

_Ned Leeds, 1:07pm_

_You set it to SPDR so you wouldn't forget_

 

_Ned Leeds, 1:07pm_

_Bc of the_

 

_Ned Leeds, 1:07pm_

_You know_

 

Peter doesn't know. He ignores it.

 

_Peter Parker, 1:07pm_

_Thank you!_

 

_Ned Leeds, 1:07pm_

_Np my dude_

 

_Ned Leeds, 1:08pm_

_But seriously I need an explanation later bc you have been gone for a month_

 

_Ned Leeds, 1:08pm_

_And I was WORRIED_

 

_Ned Leeds, 1:08pm_

_And you sound really weird_

 

_Peter Parker, 1:08pm_

_Later I promise_

 

Peter chooses to ignore the fact that he will, at some point, have to deliver this non-existent explanation, and digs the phone out from his pocket. The code Ned gave him is SPDR, and the code is numerical. There are tiny letters under the numbers, though, and Peter realizes exactly what to do. Each letter corresponds to a number. He checks them and enters 7737, and the phone hangs. Peter groans.

The lock screen dissolves, and he's in.

~~_What's the phone code?_~~

The home wallpaper is of him and Tony, posing together with huge grins. The red-haired woman from Cho's test is there too, smiling widely. Is that May? They're all in front of a tall monument Peter can't identify.

_Who is the red-haired woman?_

Peter's phone is surprisingly bare. He can't get beyond the first page of applications without a password, just like with the Internship files. The only things he can access, after a few minutes of looking around, are his school email address, a Whatsapp mobile app, and two crappy-looking mobile games. He sighs in frustration. _Another_ password lock. What was he hiding that's so important?

A knock on the door interrupts his thinking, and Peter sits bolt upright on the desk chair.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for the comments on last chapter - it honestly made my day to read through them! i hope you all have a great weekend, and enjoy this chapter. enter the avengers!
> 
> edit: i'd like to clarify that this story is NOT starker in any fashion.

"Hello?" comes a voice.

"Uh, hi," Peter stammers. "Come in."

The door opens to reveal a lean but muscled guy in a tank top, hair mussed and smile wide. "Hi! I'm Clint," he says.

Peter stands up. "I'm Peter," he returns.

"FRIDAY told us you were in your room," Clint explains. "I thought I'd come get you, introduce you to the others? Sound good?" 

"Yeah," Peter says, smiling. He wonders who the _others_ are. "Sounds great."

"Awesome. Let's go," Clint tells him, propping the door open. Peter rushes to catch it, and they set off back towards the elevator. Clint asks FRIDAY to take them down a level, and there's silence for a second.

"So," Clint announces suddenly, looking over at Peter, "these guys are a lot. Be prepared. You're friends with all of them, so they might be overly excited."

"Okay," Peter says slowly. "By excited...?"

The doors open. " _Sublevel six_ ," FRIDAY informs.

Four adults are seated in the room before them. One with bright blonde hair, whom Peter recognises from Cho's test, sits cross-legged on a barstool in front of the central island counter. The man opposite her, at the grill, is also from the test, though he's in a starkly different environment.

"I know how to make _pancakes_ , Sam!" he's yelling, waving a spatula around.

A man wearing red goggles opens his mouth to yell something back, but suddenly notices Clint and Peter. His face lights up.

The guy at the stove keeps shouting. "I was making pancakes before you were _born_ -" The woman clears her throat, and he shuts up. "What?"

"Peter, buddy, nice to see you!" the man in goggles greets, a huge smile on his face. "Bring it in, man." He grabs Peter in a tight hug, grinning.

Peter sees Clint mouth something in his peripheral vision, and then there's a muffled _oh, shit_ from the man hugging him. He's promptly released.

"I'm Sam," the guy says. "Or Falcon."

"Falcon?" Peter asks, one eyebrow cocked. "What kind of name is that?" Clint lets out a laugh.

"It's his superhero name," the woman says, getting up with a pointed glance at Sam. Her gaze turns to Peter and she gives him a smile. "I know you don't remember, but welcome home, Peter," she tells him. "My name is Natasha."

"It's, uh... nice to meet you."

The pancakes guy is last. He's incredibly muscular and he towers over Peter. "Sorry that was my first impression, son. I'm Steve Rogers." He holds out a hand.

"Captain America," Clint stage-whispers.

Peter shakes. "Hi," he says.

"How are you feeling, Peter?" Natasha asks.

"Good. Good, yeah, I'm... good." Peter nods. "A little bit overloaded."

Steve gives him a smile. "That's understandable. Have you had lunch?"

Peter shakes his head.

"Do you want slightly burnt pancakes?" Sam calls from the other end of the room, a safe distance from Steve, and Natasha rolls her eyes.

"They're _not burnt_ , but you're more than welcome to join us, Peter," Steve offers.

"Sure," Peter acquiesces, smiling.

Clint saunters towards Natasha, pulling out the stool beside her. "I am so _hungry_ ," he groans, and she turns to look at him.

"I really wonder how you manage to keep a family going and still act like a three-year-old," she deadpans. Sam laughs loudly.

FRIDAY's voice sounds. " _Sublevel six_." Peter turns around, surprised he didn't notice the elevator moving off before, and the doors open to reveal a bulky man with a shining silver arm, whose expression fills with surprise on seeing him. For a second, Peter sees red stars and stumbles.

A hand catches his arm and Peter stares at the newcomer, who carefully pulls him upright. "Are you okay?" he asks.

Peter stammers, "Yeah."

"Hey, Bucky," Clint greets, raising a hand.

"Buck!" Steve calls from behind him. "Just in time! Go ahead and grab a seat. You too, Peter."

Peter does so, slipping into a seat opposite Clint. Sam sits on the other side of Natasha, and the newcomer, Bucky, is on the same side as Peter. Steve sets down a large plate piled with golden, steaming pancakes in front of them, taking the stool next to Peter.

"Pancakes!" he announces, looking proud.

There's silence for a second.

"Okay, I thought these would be _way_ worse," Sam says, spearing a stack with his fork. "I'm impressed."

"Same," Clint echoes, stabbing through three simultaneously.

Natasha takes a bite of one of hers as Peter loads his plate. "These are _good_ , Steve."

Bucky smiles. "Of course they are. He used to bake for our platoon on quiet days."

Clint's eyes go wide. "No way. That's a joke."

Steve says airily, "Howling Commandos Official Baker."

Sam lets out a howl of laughter, and Bucky chuckles. Peter can't help laughing; their enthusiasm is infectious. Natasha grins as she cuts into another pancake. Eventually the laughter peters out, and Peter sees an opening.

"So who are you guys?" he questions. "Like, the team?"

"We're the Avengers," Natasha tells him.

"It's a varied roster. Sometimes Clint sleeps in and misses - _ow_!" Sam yelps, rubbing his now-deadened arm.

"We're superheroes," Clint says, returning to his pancakes and trying to hide the grin tugging at his mouth.

"Awesome." Peter means it, as well. He may have lost his past, but he still knows what superheroes are. Knowing them in real life is, indeed, awesome. "What can you do?"

"Hawkeye: arrows," says Sam, pointing to Clint. He moves to Natasha. "Black Widow: expert assassin. Falcon: wings. White Wolf: super strong. Captain America: super strong with a super shield," he continues, pointing to himself, Bucky and Steve in turn.

"I mean, basically," Clint admits, grabbing another pancake.

"I'm not wrong," Sam says, grinning.

"Tony's an Avenger too, right? Is he coming?" Peter asks, words half-muffled by pancake.

Natasha and Clint share a glance.

"Tony is... in his private lab," Steve says. His tone is no longer light. "It's probably best to leave him alone for now."

Peter nods. _Fine_. The man is definitely avoiding him. "Cool."

The Avengers stay for around thirty more minutes before they dissipate. The conversation eventually turns to Natasha telling the others about _some chatter I've been hearing_ of some organisation's increased activity, though Peter doesn't understand the significance. Natasha goes to train once she's finished talking, and Clint and Sam disappear to destination unknown. Steve lingers before leaving.

"It's good to have you back, Peter," he says, one hand on his shoulder.

Peter, for his part, goes back to his room. He's lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, when he decides to ask someone else about Tony.

"FRIDAY?" he asks.

" _Yes, Peter_?"

"Where's Tony?"

" _Boss is currently in his personal lab_ ," FRIDAY says.

Peter nods. "Okay." _Personal_ lab. "Where is that?"

" _The lab occupies the entirety of sublevel seven_ ," FRIDAY provides. " _However, only specific people have access_."

Peter frowns. "Who?"

" _Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, James Rhodes, and Peter Parker. You_ ," FRIDAY tells him, and he's momentarily floored.

"Me?"

" _You_ _usually spend significant amounts of time with Boss in his lab_ ," FRIDAY explains. " _It became a sensible idea to give you your own access_."

Peter raises an eyebrow, about to speak. He's interrupted, though, by another knock at his door. Peter resists the urge to groan.

"Come in," he calls.

Tony Stark pushes the door open. Peter, once again, is stunned. "Hey, kiddo," he says.

_Not in his lab, then. Thanks, FRIDAY._

The inexplicable urge to ask Tony straight up what's going on with him is strong. "Hi, Tony," Peter greets instead, willing his voice to be steady.

Tony's expression goes plastic, his smile fixed. "I have someone you'll want to see upstairs."

When they reach the foyer, there's a woman standing there. She's fiddling with her bag, glasses perched precariously on the end of her nose. Her hair is long and shining, and as she looks up it falls in waves around her shoulders.

" _Peter_ ," she breathes, and runs towards him. She pulls him into a tight hug, and though confusion is racing through him it sends waves of comfort through him. "It's alright, baby. We'll get through this."

"I -" The woman is clutching him close, but Peter still can't recognize her. He tries to speak up, but the words die in his throat.

"May," Tony says gently, "I think Peter's a little confused."

~~_Who is May?_~~

May pulls back, staring at Peter. "Oh, baby, I'm sorry. I'm May. I'm your aunt. This must be _horrible_ for you." Her tone suggests that it's not just Peter who the situation is awful for, and a sudden sensation of guilt washes over him.

He gives her a half-smile. "It's not great," he says, and May lets out a teary laugh as she hugs him again.

"We'll get through this," she repeats. "When you come home, we'll sort everything out."

"Home?" Peter asks. "Do I... not live here?"

May glances at Tony briefly. "You do, but you also live with me in Queens. You go to school, too. We want to get you back to... normality as fast as we can, Peter."

Tony nods. "Dr. Cho wants you to stay for another week," he says, "but after that May will take you home. We'll go back to our previous schedule."

"Mm. Here on Wednesday evenings and some weekends, and home and at school the rest of the time," May tells him.

Peter can't help but feel like this organized ambush is exactly that: _organized_. May and Tony are executing a pincer movement on him, and he's trapped. They're like a pair of united parents, shepherding their unruly offspring. That's when it occurs to him, like a bolt of lightning. This is definitely what Cho meant by questions.

"Where are my parents?" he asks.

May's face falls. "Oh, baby. They... they're not around anymore."

"Oh," Peter says. "Okay."

He should feel upset. He's lost parents he never had the chance to know. Instead, though, he just feels numb. Everyone around him is acting so _normal_. Restart the schedule, introduce everyone again, and Peter will be fine: except he isn't. He's so out of the loop he can't even comprehend what he's missing. These people don't _mean_ anything to him. May is his aunt. Great. Is he meant to suddenly love her? Peter's lost the emotional attachment that made her family. He can't help but feel like, if they truly were his close friends, they'd be reacting with more joy at seeing him again after a month. Instead, it's just calm introductions and no change to their day.

"It's okay," May says, softly, jerking him out of his thoughts. The reassurance sounds like it's so much more for her. "It's okay."

This time when she embraces him, Peter hugs her back, willing the embrace to fill some of the loneliness that's opened up inside him.


	6. Chapter 6

Peter spends another week at the Facility with the Avengers. He talks science with Bruce, goes through more memory tests from Cho, and eats a whole lot more of Steve's cooking. It's surprisingly good. Sam and Clint try unsuccessfully to prank Peter; the little voice in the back of his mind warns him every time, and he dodges accordingly. He decides to bite the bullet and ask about the woman in his phone, now that he knows she can't be May, and Clint happily tells him her name. Pepper Potts, the CEO of Stark Industries and Tony Stark's fiancee.

~~_Who is the red-haired woman?_ ~~

If Peter weren't already sure there was something going on before, he sure as hell is now. He knows Tony and the CEO personally; that's not a normal privilege for a high-school intern. Speaking of the man, he doesn't see Tony at all. The man holes up in his lab for the vast majority of the week, barely communicating to anyone save FRIDAY. Peter overhears the other Avengers discussing his behavior, and promptly leaves when they start talking about Tony's reaction to him. Natasha teaches him basic self-defense on Thursday, and ends up finding Peter practicing late at night on the following evenings.

On Saturday, the night before he's due to go back to Queens with May, Peter's rehashing the moves Natasha showed him in the training room. His muscles are surprisingly adept at the motions, in the same way his fingers can solve a Rubik's Cube though he can't consciously remember how to do it. Muscle memory feels the same wherever it is, and Peter knows he must have learned this before. He resolves to add the question to his notebook.

_What kind of high-school student knows hand-to-hand combat and the Avengers?_

The moon is shining through the windows, the light entering through a complex system of mirrors and tunnels. It's supposed to be, according to Natasha, so the Avengers can train in varying degrees of natural light. Peter suspects it's for the aesthetic. The moonlight spills onto the training bag Peter's using, illuminating it in deep blue. He lands another kick just as the sound of a door opening pierces his focus.

He turns to see Clint entering, holding a bottle in one hand and towel in the other.

"Hey," he says.

Clint grins. "You're up late. You okay?"

Peter nods. "Nat taught me some moves," he explains. "Just practicing."

The archer shrugs. "Sure. Just make sure it's just that, alright? You don't want to start using this an excuse to skip sleep."

"Don't worry," Peter says. "I just... want to do this. I won't be able to at May's."

Clint nods. "Fair enough. You still using this?" he asks, pointing to the bag.

Peter considers for a second, then shakes his head. "No, I'm good." He probably does need to get some sleep, anyway. He can't exactly remember how long the drive to Queens is, and if it's hours and hours being tired will just make it worse.

He starts packing up his stuff: the cloth Nat gave him to wrap his knuckles with and the small towel matching Clint's he brought in. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Clint inspect the top of the bag, making a face. The man groans as he lifts it off the hook. Peter frowns, and straightens.

"Did I break it?" he asks. He didn't think he'd damaged the bag, but -

"Nah, you didn't," Clint answers, voice slightly breathy from exertion. He heaves the bag down in the corner of the room before picking up the green one. "Just the wrong weight for me, that's all."

"There are different weights?"

"There's mainly just green and blue, to be honest. I'm sure there are more bags in storage somewhere, but they're not used commonly. Essentially, if you're a _super_ human," Clint explains, the word coming out slightly strained as he hauls the green one up and hooking it over, "you go for blue. And if you're a regular ol' dude like me you get green."

Peter stares. "Why did Nat give me blue?"

Clint freezes. "Shit," he mutters. He turns to face Peter, gaze firm and strangely guilty. "I'm sorry, kid. That's not my place to tell."

"What do you mean?" Peter knows his tone is in danger of becoming childishly indignant. He doesn't care. This is his boiling point, and it's been brewing ever since Tony acted like he was hiding stuff from Peter way back at the start of his memory. "Everyone is keeping some... big secret away from me. Why won't you just tell me?"

"Firstly, it's dangerous," Clint begins, and barrels onward before Peter can protest, "and _secondly_ , it's not my plan. If you want to find out what he's keeping from you, you go ask Tony. He can explain his motivation a hell of a lot better than I can."

Rationally, he knows Clint isn't angry at him. His words were firm, not furious. That doesn't stop Peter from swallowing his argument mutely and leaving without a word.

The next morning, May comes early to pick Peter up. He has a small bag to take with him, at FRIDAY's suggestion, with a couple of photos from the pinboard, the laptop from the desk, and his notebook. The other Avengers aren't up yet, and it's only when Peter's back in the elevator, rapidly ascending, that he realizes he didn't tell anyone he was leaving. When he reaches the foyer Tony is waiting for him.

"Hey, kid," he says. Peter looks down as they start walking.

He'd overheard the Avengers' conversation earlier in the week without really meaning to. _We need to talk about Tony_ , Steve had said, and Peter couldn't pull himself away.

_He's really cut up over the kid_ , Clint had pointed out.

Natasha's voice was low. _He blames himself, doesn't he?_

_Yeah_. Steve had sighed. Cho can't do anything for the memory issues. _I don't think he took it well at all_.

_You know what he needs to do?_ Sam cut in. _Stop avoiding the kid. They've got equally shitty guilt complexes, and he probably thinks it's his fault or something._

That's when Peter left.

So now, with Tony suddenly talking to him to keep up appearances and with Peter having concrete confirmation of Tony's skittishness, Peter feels just the smallest bit annoyed. "Hi," he mutters.

"You excited to go home?" Tony asks.

Peter shrugs, and doesn't miss the furrowed look Tony shoots him. They reach the end of the foyer and Tony pushes the door open for him. May is waiting, resting against a slightly aged-looking sedan just in front of the Facility, and she smiles when she sees them.

"There you go, Pete," Tony tells him as he steps out. "I'll see you on Wednesday, yes?"

Peter nods. "Yeah," he answers, resisting the urge to yell some childish insult. He'll find out what Tony's not telling him soon enough.

"Hey, Peter," May greets, smile widening as he comes closer. "You ready to go?"

"Sure," he replies, readjusting the backpack over his shoulder.

May moves from where she's standing to go around the car, and gestures to the passenger door she was leaning on. "You can put your bag in the backseat, honey," she calls.

Peter reaches for the door and climbs inside the car, twisting round to dump the bag behind him. May gets in right next to him, and starts the car smoothly.

"Alright," she says, tone light. "Let's go home."

Peter watches the Facility disappear in his wing mirror as May pulls away from the building. Tony's already vanished back inside.

The drive is surprisingly quiet. From the noise that first woke him up before Tony found him, Peter was expecting a mishmash of angry drivers, loud horns and traffic jams. They only get stuck for around ten minutes, though, May calmly humming along to the radio she's put on low volume. Peter finds that some of the songs are familiar, though he can't place how he knows them at all. Queens is a neighborhood filled with straight roads and tall, clustered buildings, and May points out landmarks as they go. The New York Hall of Science and the Queens Zoo are beside the Botanical Garden. Apparently, the shop labeled _Delmar's_ is a frequent favorite of Peter's. The journey lasts around forty minutes before they pull up outside a tall apartment building, and May digs out her keys and clicks the dangling button attached. The garage door opens up in front of them. She turns in, and when they're out she leads Peter up the stairs a few floors to their apartment.

The residence is small, but warm. May dumps her keys on the table with a jingle when they get inside. The kitchen is open-plan, leading into the living room, and it's colored with light tones. The house is cozy, and Peter can see a small window at the other end of the kitchen that helps illuminate the room. Trinkets are dotted around on nearly every surface. Though it's clean, it's obviously lived-in.

"Home, sweet home," May announces, shucking off her jacket. "Your room's just there, sweetie." She points to a nondescript off-white door. "I'm going to do some laundry real quick, so do you want to go ahead and look around?"

"Sure," Peter says, glancing around the room. May smiles at his answer before picking up the basket he hadn't noticed nestled in the corner of the room. Peter sees a flash of red fabric before May angles her body to cover it, and he frowns as she walks past him. He must just be imagining things, but... it occurs to him that he wouldn't be surprised if May were in on the whole secrets thing Tony has going with the Avengers.

He walks into his room anyway, looking around. It's small, unlike his room in the Facility. There's a bunk bed beside the window, and a small bookshelf opposite that seems to double as a desk. The bed is absolutely covered in stuff. It's like there's an entire library upended on it. They all seem to be high school textbooks, and he picks a couple of them up. One's titled _AP Biology_ , and he opens it and starts flicking through. Transpiration, mitosis, DNA: he recognizes most of the topics as he reads. Peter sits down on the bed as he carries on, finding himself immersed.

"Hey, baby." May's voice interrupts his reading, and Peter looks up to see her in the doorway. "Dinner's in ten, if that's okay."

"No, yeah, that's cool," Peter says, nodding. "What is it?"

"Meatloaf."

"Sounds good. Thanks, May," Peter tells her, and she smiles at him as she closes his door again. He puts the Biology textbook down and resumes clearing the bed, stacking all the school books on his desk: _AP Chemistry, Spanish, Trigonometry II_. He's just about finished when May calls his name.

"Perfect timing," he murmurs under his breath.

As it turns out, however good May's meatloaf may sound, it's actually far from it. It's nothing like Steve's cooking, or the couple of ready meals FRIDAY helped him heat up in the last week. The taste is good, but the food is overcooked. Peter refills his water glass four times.

"So," May says halfway through, taking a sip of wine. "Monday tomorrow."

Peter nods, uncertain how to reply.

"What do you think about going to school?"

_Oh_. Peter shrugs. "Yeah, I... it's sensible, right? Getting me back on track?"

May nods fervently. "I really think so. I don't want to push you, honey, so you don't have to go if you don't want to, but I think it's a good idea."

"Okay," Peter says. "I'll go, then." It can only benefit him, he decide: more so than just sitting aimlessly in May's house, anyway.

May beams. "Perfect. I'll talk to the principal about your situation."

The rest of dinner passes in idle conversation. May tells him about what he's missed in the pop culture world; apparently one of her favorite teams won a baseball tournament, a fact which she took great pride in announcing. Peter just nods through it all. He knows instinctively what baseball _is_ , though he can't remember the rules or bring any players to mind: or, indeed, remember ever playing. When he brings it up, May shakes her head.

"Oh, no," she says, eyes crinkling slightly as she smiles. "I love you to bits, Peter, but sports were never your greatest strength in elementary school."

"What did I do?"

"You were - you _are_ \- incredibly smart, honey. You used to do little robotics projects with your friend Ned, and you played with legos _all_ the time. You still do, actually. Oh! That reminds me. You'll meet Ned and your other friends tomorrow. Re-meet." May lets her head hang slightly lower. "You know what I mean," she says, rolling her eyes as she grins and takes another forkful of meatloaf. Peter smiles, despite the mystery still hanging over him.

After they're done, Peter helps May clear up and she helps him get his backpack together. They dig out Peter's schedule, which, while they're searching, May says he hasn't needed to check for months: which is why it's _lost under all your stuff, Peter!_ He has Calculus AB tomorrow, as well as AP Physics and Statistics, and May rummages through the piles of books Peter moved off his bed earlier to find the right ones. Eventually, she's told him all the things he needs to have. His backpack is full of pencil case, lunch money, spare paper and notes, as well as the books, and Peter slips his notebook full of questions in too. Ned might be able to help him find some more people on his list. May bids him an early goodnight and kisses the top of his head, ruffling his hair slightly.

It takes Peter an eternity to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~press f for may's cooking~~


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~skidaddle skidool peter's goin' to school!~~
> 
> i feel like a broken record saying this? but honestly you guys keep leaving brilliant comments and they _make my day_. thank you all so much!
> 
> up this time, peter does indeed return to school and we see some familiar faces (and my attempt at heavy research into the american school system). hope you all enjoy! <3

The next morning, Peter's woken by May's yell.

"Peter, we're going to be late!"

He catapults out of bed, pulling on a T-shirt and jeans from the wardrobe. He has a similar collection of nerdy tees here, and today he wears one that proclaims _Han Shot First_ in bold, blocky letters. Getting ready flies by in a panicked haze; he overslept, and he shouts an apology to May as she runs around trying to get him toast in time to eat it. They jump in the car as soon as they can, and May puts her foot down to carve through the early traffic. It's a stark contrast to the easy drive yesterday. They pull up in record time outside the Midtown School of Science and Technology, and May practically runs out of the car.

"Come on, baby," she says, pushing open the doors to the school.

Peter follows, brow furrowed. "What's happening?"

"We're having a meeting with your teachers," May explains, slightly short of breath, "to explain the situation. And we're already late!"

The halls are decorated with loud, bright banners and trophy cabinets. In the middle of the display in the very first corridor is a tall trophy that Peter recognizes from his Internet trawl: the decathlon win. Beside it is the same picture that was online, and Peter sees himself once again. He slows down unconsciously as he looks at the displays, and May grabs his hand and pulls him onward. They turn left and then right, and suddenly they're standing in front of an office with the blinds currently down. Fine lettering on the door reads _Principal Morita_.

May looks over to him. "You ready?" she asks.

Peter nods. "I think so."

She knocks, and a deep voice from within calls, "Come in."

May pushes the door open to reveal a man behind the desk in the center, two teachers flanking him. Peter guesses the central guy is Morita.

"I'm so sorry we're late," May apologizes.

"It's no problem," says Morita, gesturing to two chairs in front of him. "Please, sit down."

The male professor to Morita's right gives Peter a half-sympathetic smile as he sits down, and a sense of awkwardness rolls over him. The female teacher doesn't smile, though there's recognition in her eyes. Morita steeples his fingers.

"So, Ms. Parker. You requested a meeting to discuss Peter's... situation," Morita begins. "We received his doctor's letter, and we'd like to let you know that we're prepared to do whatever we can to help Peter readjust."

"Thank you," May says gratefully. "I know Dr. Cho told you, but I'd just like to reiterate that Peter's academic memory is unaffected. He'll still be able to keep up in lessons, and -"

The female professor interrupts. "Don't worry, Ms. Parker. Peter is a bright boy. I have no doubt that that fact hasn't changed."

May smiles, though it's a little tight.

"You must be wondering who we are, Peter," the male teacher points out, addressing him for the first time, and May looks shocked.

"A little," Peter admits.

"Of course, I - sorry, baby," she says to Peter, quieter.

"I'm Principal Morita," Morita begins. "I'm the head of your school. This is Mrs. Warren, the Physics professor," he adds, gesturing to the female teacher, "and -"

"I'm Mr. Harrington," the male professor says, leaning forward to shake Peter's hand. "It's good to see you again, Peter. I teach science for lower years, and I run the academic decathlon team here."

"Oh," Peter says, recognition dawning. Harrington is the man from the decathlon photo. "Yeah, I found a photo of that!"

"Of course, you're excused from decathlon for as long as you need, Peter," Harrington tells him.

Warren nods beside him. "We'd like to let you know that any time you need help, you can just ask. We want to help you get comfortable again as quickly as possible."

"Thank you," Peter says. May rubs a hand on his back; the motion is surprisingly calming.

"Now," Morita says, manner snapping to brisk. "To help you feel at ease we've decided to ask one of your classmates to help you around. He's in all of your classes today, and you knew each other well. He's also been listening at the door for multiple minutes," he mutters, and Peter's head turns to see, though obscured by the blinds, someone clearly standing just outside. "Come in, Ned," Morita calls, and Peter's heart simultaneously leaps and plummets because this is Ned, someone he knows already, but now the time has come to give him the explanation Peter still doesn't have.

Ned pushes open the door and spots Peter instantly, his eyes going wide. "Peter!" he yells, and rushes forward. Peter hears May let out a soft laugh as Ned hugs him tightly. "Dude, you're back!" he exclaims.

Morita clears his throat. "Mr. Leeds," he cuts in, professorial tone showing through, and Ned shuts up. "Would you be so kind as to show Peter around briefly before homeroom? You have about..." He flicks his right wrist face-up. "Twenty minutes."

Ned opens his mouth to respond, but then his expression falls. "Show him around?" he asks.

May bites her lip. "Ned, honey, I think Peter can explain. Why don't you boys go outside?" she suggests, widening her eyes at Peter. He gets the message, and stands up.

"I'll see you later, Peter," Warren says, "for AP Physics. Have a good day."

"Bye, baby," May says.

"Bye, May," is all he can say before Ned drags him bodily outside.

The door closes behind them, and Ned's eyes go wide. " _Dude_! I can't believe you're finally back in school! What happened?"

"I, uh..."

"And what was up the other night? You sounded so weird on WhatsApp, and -"

"I don't remember you," Peter blurts out, and Ned goes white.

_Shit_. Peter doubts he was ever this tactless before, either.

"What?" he whispers. "You're joking, right?"

Peter shakes his head. "I'm sorry. I... can't remember anything before a week ago."

"Holy shit," Ned murmurs. "So when you were talking about your passcode...?"

"I forgot it," Peter admits. "I found you on my phone wallpaper and then thought you might know. I was... pretending to be the real Peter."

"Jeez, dude. That's cold. Jeez." Ned is shaking his head now, shock written across his face. "I can't _believe_ this. Do you remember what happened?"

Peter shakes his head again.

"What about the other guy?" Ned whispers conspiratorially.

He frowns. "Other guy?"

"You know." Ned nudges him, then glances around. "Spider-Man."

His frown deepens. "I... who?"

Ned stares at him for a long second. "Oh my God."

"Who is that, Ned?"

"It doesn't matter. He's some, uh... dumb superhero," Ned finishes lamely. Peter narrows his eyes, and Ned turns around with a theatrical pair of jazz hands. "Anyway, welcome to Midtown. This is the principal's office."

Peter gives him a look. Ned laughs.

"Okay, okay," he defends, and starts walking. Peter follows. "These here are the science labs."

By this time, other kids are starting to file in. Several of them give Peter disbelieving stares, and he almost feels like some specter risen from the dead. He's only half-paying attention to Ned, with the other part of his mind focused on the new people he can see. How many knew him? One kid gives him a grin and a nod, and Ned greets him with a _hey, Charlie_. The worst reaction comes from a boy Peter barely recognizes, whose mouth drops open in a cross between horror and fury when he walks by. It clicks when he's out of earshot; it's the boy who was glaring at Peter in the decathlon photo.

"Who was that?" Peter asks.

"Flash Thompson," Ned tells him, with barely-restrained dislike evident in his tone. "Don't waste new memories on that guy."

The bell rings above them then, and Peter gasps at the shrill volume. Ned shoots him a concerned glance, but nobody else seems hugely affected.

"Come on, Peter, let's go. Homeroom is this way. And," he says, pausing for a second, "what you said earlier is wrong. You're still the real Peter."

With that, Ned starts walking again, and a slow warmth spreads from Peter's chest.

The school day is almost painfully slow. Calculus AB is interesting, definitely, and Peter finds himself keeping up without issue, but the class drags on for what seems like hours. Some kid in front of him keeps yawning repeatedly, and Peter has to agree with the sentiment. AP Physics is next; it's with Mrs. Warren, as promised. Peter finds himself drifting off in the middle of a circuitous, long-winded explanation of gravitational fields, head slipping off his hand. Warren turns and shoots him a sharp look when he hits the table with a bang, but it quickly softens when she sees it's him. She continues on. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter sees Flash make a furious face. Ned laughs under his breath, and congratulates Peter for getting away with it.

All is smooth, albeit pretty boring, up until lunch. Ned and Peter have just sat down with their trays, both bearing loaded plates of slightly-stringy macaroni cheese, when the bored decathlon girl turns up and drops a book on their table.

"What's up, losers?" she asks, climbing into the seat and crossing her arms. Peter straightens in his seat as she turns her gaze directly on him. "It's good to see you, Peter. Apparently you forgot everything, huh?"

Peter frowns, and looks at Ned. He holds his hands up. "Don't look at me!" he protests, mouth half-full of pasta. "I didn't tell anyone, I swear."

The girl shakes her head. "One of Flash's cronies eavesdropped on the staff room. He's told everyone about it."

A yawning hole opens up in Peter's stomach, and he forces down a forkful of suddenly-tasteless macaroni. "Oh."

Ned huffs. "Those guys are such idiots."

"Agreed," the girl says, raising an eyebrow. "Anyway. I'm MJ," she says, holding out a hand.

~~_Sketch - who is MJ?_ ~~

" _You're_ MJ!" Peter blurts.

MJ looks slightly taken aback. "Um," she says.

"Sorry - sorry, I just saw your name before I came. I found this drawing in my AP Chemistry notes," Peter explains, words tripping over themselves for reasons unknown to him. _Get it together_. "I was just wondering who you were, because you signed it. Yeah."

Ned's eyes are wide. He's looking between Peter and MJ like he's watching a tennis match.

MJ narrows her eyes slightly, though there's shock behind them. "You kept that?" Her voice is full of doubt and surprise, and Peter realises he has definitely said something wrong.

He nods uncertainly. MJ freezes for a second.

"Cool. Well, I need to go, anyway," she announces, standing up and grabbing her book again. Peter can see the bravado wash over her like a second skin. "See you, losers."

"Shit," Peter mutters. "Past Peter, you're a goddamn idiot."

He sees Ned open his mouth out of the corner of his eye, but someone cuts him off. " _Smooth_ , Parker," a voice drawls from behind them. Peter and Ned twist round to see Flash smirking before them. "How many girls do you pick up with that style?"

"Stop it, Flash," Ned says, the humor vanished from his voice. "Just leave him alone." Peter feels an odd sense of gratitude that Ned is standing up for him.

"I heard you came back from skiving school with no memories, Parker. You remember me?" Flash taunts, ignoring Ned completely. When Peter doesn't respond, he carries on. "We're _really_ good friends, see. You tell me all your secrets. Remember?"

Ned hisses, "That's a lie, Flash."

"Shut _up_ , Leeds. You were about to tell me how fake that stupid Stark internship was before you went AWOL, Peter. So?"

Flash raises his eyebrows and spreads his hands out like a parlor-trick magician, grinning down at Peter. Something sparks inside him, and Peter stands up.

"The Stark internship? I remember," he says, keeping his tone deceptively light. "I was about to tell you that it's real. I might have had a quip about you being jealous prepared, but I can't quite remember." Flash's smile is fading, twisting into a sneer now that Peter has stopped playing along. "I think, though, the last thing I wanted to tell you was to _fuck off, Flash_."

The entire cafeteria is silent. Flash's face is screwed up with anger, but none of his goons have moved an inch. Slowly, Peter realizes he's slipped into the initial stance Natasha taught him, muscles relaxed but ready to fight. Flash backs away, just one step, and whispers reach Peter's ears.

_Holy shit, what just happened?_

_Flash is such a dick._

_Who does that fucking nerd think he is?_

"I'm going to eat my lunch now," Peter says, voice firmer than he feels. His throat is suddenly dry, with all the eyes on him. He sits right back down, and after a few seconds Flash storms away.

Ned watches them go with saucer-like eyes. " _Dude_!" he whispers. "That was _awesome_!"

Peter looks over at him, and grins. "It was pretty cool, wasn't it?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> peter is just about Done with everything happening to him, and flash gets the short end of the stick - not that anyone's complaining, especially ned.
> 
> thank you all for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: panic attack in this chapter. if you're affected, please stay safe! <3
> 
> in other news, flash is still a dick, and we see the reappearance of the best gal in spider-man: homecoming. enjoy!

After the cafeteria incident, MJ doesn't talk to Peter and neither does Flash. Ned assures him that MJ's just being her usual self and it's nothing to worry about, but Peter still feels shitty about the encounter. Flash, however, sends unrestricted death glares to Peter every chance he gets. The week passes with Ned chatting excitedly in his ear about anything and everything, under the guise of helping Peter cope. The professors turn a blind eye while they talk, which just makes the laser-focused stares from Flash intensify. On Tuesday, Ned discovers Peter's forgotten the _Star Wars_ films.

"How?" he asks, bewildered. "You came in in your _Han_ shirt yesterday!"

Peter shrugs. "I didn't know what it meant, Ned. It was literally just a shirt in my closet."

Ned's jaw drops. "Right. This weekend we are watching all eight films, back to back. And _Rogue One_. And you liked _Solo_ when it came out. Oh, and if we have time we'll watch the _Clone Wars_ TV show, and _Rebels_ -"

Peter does surprisingly well in class, still in the top third of students. The knowledge he needs is instinctive, he finds, even when they're covering supposedly-new material. The combination of free passes for talking, still being above him in academic work, and humiliating him in the cafeteria is what finally makes Flash snap.

It's the end of Wednesday's school day, and Peter is returning the day's textbooks to his locker. He still hasn't found an explanation for why they were all at his home, on his bed, but he's started putting them back in the right place. He's just closed it and locked it with the combination Ned gave him when there's a shout.

"Penis Parker!" someone hollers, and Peter turns to see Flash stomping towards him. "I've figured you all out, asshole," he threatens, walking straight up to him and _shoving_ him backwards.

"Mr. Thompson!" yells a professor Peter doesn't recognize, striding over. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Peter -" Flash starts, but the professor's lips tighten.

"That's enough. I've seen enough fighting between you two this week. Mr. Thompson, Mr. Parker, I will let Principal Morita know you'll be on your way to his office shortly." With that, she turns on her heel and starts walking away. Peter's brow furrows at her words. _I've seen enough fighting between you two_. They set something tingling in the back of his mind.

"You're dead, Parker," Flash hisses.

Peter retorts, "This is your fault! You pushed me."

"If my dad hears about this, I'll kill you," the other boy threatens.

Ned grabs Peter's arm then, rescuing him. "Dude! What happened?"

"Flash just shoved me halfway across the hallway," Peter mutters. "I have to go talk to Morita."

"That's so unfair," Ned protests. "He started it."

Peter throws his hands up. "I _know_. What is his problem?"

Ned shrugs. "He's been jealous of you since, like, third grade. You're smarter, and he's jealous."

"Brilliant reasoning."

Ned snorts. "He's just an idiot. I'm sure Morita will let you off."

Peter rolls his eyes. "Thanks, Ned."

It takes him around two minutes to get to Morita's office. He's honestly surprised, and a little proud, that he remembers how to get there; maybe all the empty space in his brain helps. The door is shut when he arrives, and Flash is sitting grumpily in one of the three chairs outside. He glares at Peter as he approaches.

"Come in," Morita calls from inside, and Peter guesses he saw his silhouette between the blinds, just like Ned.

Peter goes in first, Flash following him with a dark expression. Morita sighs heavily as they sit down in front of him.

"I am not impressed, Mr. Thompson," the principal begins. "I thought we agreed that you would stay out of trouble for the rest of the semester." Before Flash can protest, he's already moving on to Peter. Morita doesn't call him _Peter_ , though, now; this time, he's here as a misbehaving student. "And, Mr. Parker, I hoped you'd be able to behave a little better in your first week back. Who would like to tell me what happened?"

Flash speaks straightaway. "Something's going on with his stupid memory thing."

"What?" Peter protests, staring at him. Of all the things, Peter would not expect the amnesia to be the thing that gets under Flash's skin.

"He's doing the same in class - like, exactly the same scores, and literally nothing has changed except now his boyfriend gets to talk to him in lessons!"

"Mr. Thompson," Morita warns. "Please keep your voice down."

Flash says his next words quieter, as asked, but so, so confidently. "He's been faking it."

Peter goes cold.

Morita says something, next, but Peter doesn't hear it. The world sounds like it's been submerged underwater.

_Something psychological is causing the amnesia_.

Flash thinks he's faking it. He's not, but it's Peter's fault anyway. Cho said it was his fault, told Tony, and then Tony avoided him for a week. Peter lets out a small gasp as it hits him. _That's_ why Tony hasn't been speaking to him. He knows the amnesia is Peter's fault.

_Something in him doesn't want to come back_.

"-eter?"

He looks up.

"Are you alright?" asks Morita. Flash is glaring at him from the other seat.

Peter's head pounds. "I'm... I'm sorry. I don't think I'm feeling well, I -"

"Stop _faking_ , Parker," Flash hisses.

"Mr. Thompson!"

Peter can't breathe. It's his fault he's forgotten. Does everyone know? Does May know it's his fault he can't remember her?

There's a sigh from the principal. Peter can barely hear it.

"Fine. Mr. Parker, I advise getting some rest," Morita acquiesces, waving them off. "I don't expect to see either one of you in here again any time soon, understood?"

Peter nods, and as soon as the principal's gaze leaves him he darts out of the room, head foggy. He's running by the time he gets to the corridor, and then he breaks into a sprint that blurs the world around him. His eyes sting, and his breathing comes fast and shallow, and it's like there's a weight on his chest. His cheeks are wet, cold against the air. Somewhere within him, he's conscious that he's retracing the roads May took to get to school, but the main part of him is struggling to stay afloat in the sea of panic gripping him.

It's his fault.

_It may be, at least in part, psychogenic_.

The next thing he knows, he's fumbling with the keys he found in his jeans last week, shoving them with trembling hands into May's lock. The door opens with an indignant creak and Peter collapses inside, slamming the door behind him with a crack and sinking to the floor as he tries to draw in breath.

It's his fault he forgot. No wonder Tony's disappointed.

_Tony_.

_I'll see you on Wednesday, yes?_

Today is Wednesday. Peter's meant to be going to see Tony. As if on cue, his phone buzzes, and Peter reaches for it with shaky fingers.

 

_Happy Hogan, 3:47pm_

_Kid, where are you? I've come to drive you to intern with Tony._

 

He taps out a responding message. The weight on his chest gets heavier with every character.

 

_Peter Parker, 3:48pm_

_I'm sorry, Happy, I'm really not feeling well_

 

_Peter Parker, 3:48pm_

_I don't think I can come_

 

_Happy Hogan, 3:50pm_

_Alright, kid. Are you at home?_

 

Peter hesitates.

 

_Happy Hogan, 3:51pm_

_Don't worry, I'm not going to come and drag you with me._

 

_Happy Hogan, 3:51pm_

_Are you somewhere safe?_

 

_Peter Parker, 3:52pm_

_Yes._

 

_Happy Hogan, 3:52_

_Okay, kid. That's fine. I'll see you on the weekend._

 

Peter lets out a choked sob, head resting back onto the door. Why does Happy still bother being nice? Does he not know that Peter forgot his own family?

He draws in a struggling breath, head spinning, and shuts his eyes. It's meant to only be for a second, but when he opens his eyes next the sky through the window in front of him is dark. Peter pulls himself up from his slumped position, blinking a couple times. His mouth is dry. When he checks, his phone reads _8:48pm_.

"Crap," Peter mutters, though there's no heat behind it.

He gets up, depositing his backpack by the kitchen table. It's then that he notices the note propped up on the fruit bowl.

 

_Hey baby,_

_I have to work the late shift at the hospital tonight. If you're reading this it means you're at home, so remember that Happy is picking you up! Just text him and he'll come to the house. Tony's letting you stay over tonight, so I'll see you tomorrow._

_Love from May xxx_

 

May won't be home for hours. Peter's doubly meant to be at Tony's, now, but he can't go back after shooting Happy down. He's going to have to think of something.

First, Peter checks the fridge. He's starving; lunch was tiny, even for the school's shrunk portions. His stomach growls as he pulls open the door to reveal near-empty shelves. He curses inwardly as he remembers May asking him what he wanted to eat on Tuesday, since she was going grocery shopping soon. Peter doesn't trust his navigation skills to find someplace to get food for tonight. Surely there's food somewhere else in the house?

He checks the rooms systematically. They're all places he'd doubt food to be (bedrooms, bathrooms, and the living room) save for the final room. It's half laundry, clearly, by the machines and the clothes strung up on May's washing line, but the other half seems to be storage. Peter rummages through toiletry supplies and spare mechanical parts in vain, swearing under his breath when his search turns up nothing. That's when he turns, and sees the red fabric.

It's the same vibrant red he saw May try and hide from him on Sunday. He frowns and steps closer. The material is half-hidden under the laundry basket, looking like someone's done a bad job of concealing it. Peter lifts the surprisingly light basket off to reveal a sleek-looking outfit that looks suspiciously like spandex.

"Woah," he murmurs, lifting it up. It's bright red and blue, with a tiny spider insignia in the center of the chest. Peter remembers it being in Cho's test. Is this... his? He notices that there's another piece of fabric under it, and grabs it. This one is lighter and smaller, pure red save for the slanted white eyes. It's a _mask_ , Peter realizes, and nobody is here to see him. He pulls it on.

The world goes pitch-black for a second before lighting up again, white lines blinking out over his vision before they fade. Words pop up in front of him, giving him information he can't fully take in before -

" _Hello, Peter_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wooo _karen!_ i love she
> 
> if anyone's in need of more irondad and spiderson, i've just published a new fic called "a nightmare to remember". it's got the insomnia trope this fandom goes wild for, but with a bit of a twist. i'd be so, so happy if you guys checked it out! thank you again for your support for this fic, i appreciate it so much <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so somehow i??? missed all the comments on chapter 7? thank you all for commenting with such lovely words! i laughed out loud at a couple, and it was so, so nice discovering i hadn't seen any of them yet. i'm so grateful for all of you reading - you make my day! <3
> 
> for all of you who like ned, this is his chapter to shine. this was never in my original plan for this fic, but he is so much fun to write that it just happened (and i'm so glad it did, because the pppp ended up becoming one of my favorite scenes). please enjoy!

 "What the hell?" Peter yelps, stepping backward. His foot catches and he falls on his ass, letting out a grunt as he hits the floor. "Who said that?"

" _My name is Karen. I am your AI, Peter_." It's a cool, feminine voice, emanating from all around him. He looks around wildly.

"You're my what?" he gasps.

" _Your AI_."

"Why do I have an _AI_ in a mask in my laundry room?" Peter asks incredulously.

" _Mr. Stark created this suit, and me, to help you as Spider-Man_ ," Karen says patiently. " _You are a hero, typically seen fighting crime in the neighborhood of Queens. You are also a registered and active member of the Avengers_."

"Woah," Peter breathes. "Does anyone else know?"

" _The Avengers are aware of your identity, yes, as well as May Parker and Ned Leeds_."

There it is, Peter realizes. The secret. It's why Natasha gave him the special punching bag, why he's friends with the Avengers. He _is_ one.

~~_What kind of high-school student knows hand-to-hand combat and the Avengers?_ ~~

"Why didn't they tell me?" Peter mutters, half to himself.

He momentarily forgets that Karen can hear him, though. " _I believe Mr. Stark and Ms. Parker agreed to keep your identity as Spider-Man secret for now. All the Avengers, as well as FRIDAY and, as a consequence, I, have been asked not to tell you_."

"Are you _serious_?" Peter huffs. Why does Tony think he has the right to keep this from him? And May?

" _Unfortunately so_ ," Karen says, interrupting his annoyance as soon as it begins.

Something occurs to him then. "Wait, why are _you_ telling me this if you're not allowed?"

There's humor in her voice. " _I am_ your _AI, Peter. It's my directive to act in your best interests. I don't believe keeping Spider-Man from you is beneficial to your recovery. I won't be telling Mr. Stark of the suit's activation_."

"Oh," Peter says. "Thanks."

" _You're very welcome, Peter_." She pauses for a second. " _I suggest you take off the mask now; my sensors detect Ms. Parker approaching the apartment_."

"Oh, _shit_ -" Peter swears, pulling it off and bundling it up with the rest of the suit. He shoves it underneath the laundry basket just as the metallic sound of keys in a lock fills the air, and the door pushes open. Peter takes a hurried step back, hearing May move around and drop her keys, and accidentally hits his elbow on the door frame. The sound of May's movement cuts off.

"Is someone there?" she calls. Peter curses inwardly and goes to face her.

"Hi, May," he says awkwardly. "Just me."

May stares at him. "Peter? What are you doing here? I thought Happy was picking you up -"

"I really didn't feel well," Peter tells her. "I told Happy."

May's face softens. "Oh, baby. What's wrong?"

Peter's brain hangs for a second. "I have a stomachache," he lies.

May takes a few steps over and presses her hand to Peter's forehead. "Did you eat something bad?"

"I think so."

"Oh, honey," she says sympathetically. "An early night should do you good. Are you hungry at all?"

Peter's stomach growls silently, as if in answer. May's probably eaten already, though, and she'd have to go out again to get him something to eat. It'll probably harm his cover story of the stomachache, too. He lies again.

"No, I'm okay, May," he tells her.

She smiles, kissing his forehead. "Alright. Get some sleep."

About an hour later, he's lying in his bed when Ned's words from earlier in the week come back to him.

_He's some, uh... dumb superhero._

Peter bolts upright and grabs his phone from the bedside table.

 

_Peter Parker, 10:16pm_

_Did you call me a dumb superhero??_

 

_Ned Leeds, 10:18pm_

_Holy shit did you remember!?_

 

_Peter Parker, 10:18pm_

_No I found the mask but Ned_

 

_Peter Parker, 10:19pm_

_Did you call me a dumb superhero??????_

 

_Ned Leeds, 10:19pm_

_Possibly_

 

_Ned Leeds, 10:20pm_

_But dude I'm so pleased! Who told you?_

 

_Peter Parker, 10:20pm_

_Nobody. I just found the mask in May's laundry room._

 

_Ned Leeds, 10:20pm_

_So... nobody except me knows that you know._

 

_Peter Parker, 10:21pm_

_Yeah._

 

_Ned Leeds, 10:21pm_

_GUY IN THE CHAIR_

 

_Ned Leeds, 10:21pm_

_I'm your guy in the chair again woooo_

 

_Peter Parker, 10:21pm_

_I have no idea what that means but ok_

 

_Ned Leeds, 10:22pm_

_You know, your guy in the chair_

 

_Ned Leeds, 10:22pm_

_Looking out for Spider-Man!_

 

_Ned Leeds, 10:23pm_

_We went over this last time, trust me_

 

_Ned Leeds, 10:23pm_

_I'm your guy_

 

Peter grins.

 

_Peter Parker, 10:23pm_

_You're my guy._

 

_Peter Parker, 10:23pm_

_Ok so also_

 

_Peter Parker, 10:24pm_

_Nobody told me about Spider-Man_

 

_Peter Parker, 10:24pm_

_So I don't think they'll help me with him_

 

_Peter Parker, 10:24pm_

_But I really want to learn again_

 

_Peter Parker, 10:25pm_

_My doctor doesn't know if this is permanent or not_

 

_Peter Parker, 10:25pm_

_So I gotta start again sometime, right?_

 

_Ned Leeds, 10:26pm_

_Dude, that's a bummer_

 

_Ned Leeds, 10:26pm_

_But of course I'll help you!_

 

_Ned Leeds, 10:26pm_

_I'm your guy in the chair!!_

 

_Ned Leeds, 10:27pm_

_Do you want to come round tomorrow? After school?_

 

_Peter Parker, 10:27pm_

_Thank you so much Ned_

 

_Peter Parker, 10:27pm_

_That sounds awesome_

 

_Ned Leeds, 10:28pm_

_I'm so excited_

 

_Ned Leeds, 10:28pm_

_I get to reintroduce you to all your powers!_

 

_Ned Leeds, 10:28pm_

_fsblsjvds_

 

Peter frowns, sitting upright slightly.

 

_Peter Parker, 10:29pm_

_Ned, you ok?_

 

_Ned Leeds, 10:29pm_

_IM SO EXCITED DUDE_

 

_Peter Parker, 10:29pm_

_Hahaha_

 

_Peter Parker, 10:30pm_

_See you tomorrow? May wants me to get an early night_

 

_Ned Leeds, 10:30pm_

_See you tomorrow!_

 

_Ned Leeds, 10:30pm_

_Also bring the suit if you can but don't worry if you can't_

 

_Peter Parker, 10:31pm_

_Okay, I'll try_

 

_Peter Parker, 10:31pm_

_Night, Ned_

 

_Ned Leeds, 10:32pm_

_Night!_

 

Peter turns off his phone, putting it back before rolling over to face the wall. He falls asleep with a smile.

Thursday is, save for the beginning, uneventful. In the morning, May realizes the front door is broken. She's caught between horror and annoyance.

"I bet it's those idiots from last week again," she grumbles, examining the lock. "You know Stan? Stan, the guy three floors up? He got robbed by a group of kids. They better not be staking us out."

"I'm sure it was an accident, May," Peter reassures. He _knows_ it was an accident; he must have broken the door last night in his panic to get inside. "By the way, can I go round to Ned's tonight?"

At Midtown, Flash keeps his distance, presumably to avoid another confrontation with Morita. Spanish crawls by like a snail, and Ned spends most of it whispering about Spider-Man's previous fights. He goes into detail for one specific encounter against a guy named the Vulture. His main focus is how he was the guy in the chair for that mission. He only stops when there's a poke in Peter's back, and he twists to see MJ retract her pencil.

"Stop talking, idiots," she says, half-grinning. "You can fangirl later. Right now, I need to listen to..." She breaks off, frowning at the board. "Mi casa. Ugh, not again."

Ned shuts up. Peter doesn't stop grinning for the rest of the class, and he's not even sure why. School ends at 3:30 again, and as soon as it's out Ned throws his hands up and whoops.

"Let's go!" he says, pulling Peter along behind him. He glances around furtively before whispering, "I've prepared a little something I like to call the _Peter Parker Power Pitch_."

Peter snorts. "How long did that take you?"

Ned looks affronted. Peter raises an eyebrow, and he caves.

"Twenty minutes," he huffs, earning a laugh from Peter.

They talk as they walk. Ned tells him more about Spider-Man as Peter asks, including his mentorship from Iron Man. Tony's weird attitude makes more and more sense as Ned continues. They pass Delmar's, which Peter recognizes, and Ned goes in briefly to buy a candy bar. His flat is surprisingly close to Peter's apartment, only two blocks away.

When they're inside, Ned peeks around the doorway to the kitchen. "Mom?" he calls. There's no response. He grins. "Nobody's home! We can really test out your stuff," he announces, a worrying amount of glee in his voice. "Did you bring the suit?"

Peter shakes his head. He'd tried to get it before school, but he couldn't see a way to get to the laundry room and smuggle it out without May noticing. "I couldn't. Sorry, Ned," he says, but the other boy is already waving a hand.

"It doesn't matter," he tells Peter. "You were Spider-Man way before you had that suit."

Peter blinks. "I was?"

"Yeah! You can do all this freaky stuff on your own, dude! The only thing you can't is the webbing. Let me - let me show you. Hang on."

Ned disappears for a second, and then Peter hears him whisper.

"Can you hear this?"

Peter frowns. "Yes," he whispers back, unsure what Ned's doing. There's a pause of silence.

"You have to talk normally, Peter - or shit, maybe you can't -"

"I can hear you, Ned," he says, louder.

"Awesome!" Ned's voice gets louder, then softer again. "I'm at the other end of the apartment."

Peter frowns, confusion flashing over him. "What are you talking about? I can -" He steps forward, staring in the direction of Ned's voice, and sees part of him, indeed, half-concealed by the doorway furthest from him. "- hear you."

Ned's face splits into a huge grin as he comes back towards Peter. "Enhanced hearing!" he proclaims. "Your senses are all dialed up to eleven, dude. It's so cool. That's why the school bell was so loud. And obviously I don't _know_ , but I think usually the sky is pretty bright for you."

The penny drops. Peter's eyes widen. "Woah. That explains... a lot."

Ned's smile widens further. "See? You're awesome! Okay, okay, so next... you can climb. I mean - the walls, yeah, but the _ceiling_ as well."

Peter looks at him with disbelief. "Seriously?"

Ned nods vigorously. "Yeah! Try it!"

Peter walks up to the nearest wall, white-painted, with a photo of Ned and around twenty other people hanging on it. "How?"

"I don't know," Ned says, shrugging. He unhooks the picture, placing it on the counter beside them and contemplating the wall. "Just... do?"

Peter rolls his eyes. " _Helpful_ ," he snarks, but he feels himself grin. He eyes the wall, and places a hand on it. It sticks. Peter's eyes widen, and he tugs at it. It doesn't budge. "Ned?" he says.

"Hmm?"

"My hand is stuck."

"Oh, man." Ned comes over to pull at Peter's hand. It remains steadfast to the wall. "I... did not think it would be this complicated."

Peter grits his teeth and tugs again. _Come on_ , he thinks, and suddenly the hand comes away and he's tripping backwards. "Woah!"

Ned reaches out a hand to steady him. "What did you do?"

"I just thought about letting go! I have no idea." Peter tentatively touches the wall again, and his hand sticks like last time.

_Let go_ , he orders mentally. He pulls backward, and his hand falls naturally off the surface.

"Nice!" Ned tells him. "Keep going!"

Peter grins, and reaches forward with both hands. They stick, and he reaches up with one foot to touch the wall. It fastens securely. He moves his left hand to alleviate the strange position he's now cramped in, and attaches his other foot.

"Dude," he hears Ned whisper.

He unsticks his right foot and raises it, and then repeats. Slowly, he crawls up the wall, and nearly laughs when he twists round to see the delighted expression on Ned's face. He keeps going, moving from the wall to the ceiling, and quickly works out a pattern: left foot and right hand, stick, right foot and left hand. Eventually, he's racing along the ceiling and Ned is laughing below him.

"Flip off!"

Peter takes a breath and jumps, body spinning instinctively in the air so he lands on two feet. Ned beams.

"That will never get old," he tells Peter.

"How did this _happen?_ " Peter breathes, staring at his hands. "How can I do this?"

Ned frowns. "I'm not really sure."

Peter looks up. "What?"

"See, you did tell me once how it happened, but I kinda thought you were joking."

"What did I say?"

"Well, there was this field trip we went on like... six months ago? A year? Sometime. Anyway, we went to these super cool labs called Oscorp and then I remember you wandering off, and then Mr. Harrington got really stressed out and then you didn't come back until the end of the day. And then you missed a bunch of school, but nobody knew where you were." Ned pauses for breath, gauging Peter's reaction. "So then when I found out, you told me you got bitten by a radioactive spider while we were there."

"A _what?_ "

Ned shrugs. "I don't know what to tell you, dude. I didn't believe it the first time either."

Peter blinks. "Wow," he murmurs, looking down at his hands again. A spider. _Really?_ he thinks. _Could it not have been a less terrifying insect? Ladybugs are cute._

Something in the back of Peter's mind yells, and his senses go into overdrive as his train of thought evaporates. He dodges to the left just as Ned flies around and hurls something at him.

"Dude!" Peter protests. "What was that for?"

"Your spidey-sense!" Ned exclaims. "Something told you to dodge, right? In your head? That's your sense!"

"Awesome." Peter bends down to pick up the missile, and sees it's the candy bar from Delmar's. "Do you actually want this?"

Ned shakes his head. "No. It's for you. Fourth thing: you have a super metabolism, so you have to eat a ton. You usually bring snacks with you, so I thought I'd get you one."

Peter looks down at the candy. His stomach rumbles. "Are you sure?" he asks, glancing back up at Ned.

"Yup," his friend says, and Peter gives him a grin before tearing open the bar. It's almost overly-sweet, but he feels energized even as he finishes eating it.

"Thanks, Ned," he says.

Ned smiles. "No problem, Peter." He barrels onward. "And now we have the final thing! Pick that up." He points. Peter follows his finger to the cupboard standing against the wall. The thing is higher than him, sturdy, and wooden.

"Are you crazy? I can't -"

"Lift it up," Ned insists. "Trust me."

Peter shoots him a suspicious glance, but walks over to the cupboard anyway. There's no way he'll be able to lift this furniture. Ned must be kidding. He looks back, and Ned nods wildly. Peter turns back to the cupboard and grips the bottom.

_Here goes nothing._

He pulls up, and the cupboard flies off the floor like it's made of polystyrene, impossibly light in Peter's hands, and smashes into the ceiling. "Shit!" he yelps, yanking his hands away on instinct.

"Wait -"

The cupboard crashes back down to the floor as Peter jumps back, staring. His heart is hammering. Ned's mouth is open, expression stunned. Slowly, they both look up to see a rectangular dent in the ceiling.

"Oh my God," Peter breathes. "Ned, I am so -"

" _Strong!_ " Ned exclaims, grin right back on his face. "You're super strong!"

"Ned, your ceiling -"

"It's fine," Ned interrupts. "It's not too damaged, and I'll hide it later, but - that was so cool!"

Peter stares at his hands for a moment. Lifting that weight had felt like nothing. "Wow."

"There's only one thing you've found that you can't break, and - hang on, I have some here." Ned breaks off, diving for his discarded backpack, and rummages around. He produces a small disc of shining metal that catches the light. " _Vibranium_ ," he pronounces proudly. "When Shuri - wait, you won't remember, will you? Okay, so there's this place called Wakanda that was all over the news, and it has this material called vibranium. It's, like, _super_ strong." He hands it to Peter and continues as Peter turns it over in his hands. It's cool to the touch, and he could almost swear it thrums slightly. "So you know Iron Man, right, and he knows the king of Wakanda - and he has a _sister_ who's a genius, and eventually you met, and she gave you a couple of really small discs of vibranium to work with. And you gave a tiny bit of that to me."

Ned finishes, breathless, and inhales deeply. Peter's still examining the vibranium, and choosing to ignore the fact that apparently he knows a _princess_. "So I can't break this?" he asks, curious.

Ned shakes his head. "No, dude. Nobody can. It's the strongest metal on Earth."

Peter puts his fingers round the disc, gripping it tightly, and _pulls_. There's a wrenching sound, and the disc comes apart in two torn pieces in his hands.

Ned's face goes white. "Oh my God," he says unsteadily, frozen. He looks down at the pieces, then back up at Peter. "Oh my _God_."

Something curls in Peter's stomach. "Shit."

"How did you do that?" Ned asks, and suddenly the atmosphere becomes heavier. He steps forward, taking one of the pieces from Peter's still-outstretched hands. "Nobody can break vibranium by themselves. Not Captain America, or... Peter, _how_ did you do that?"

"I don't know," Peter stammers. He's suddenly on edge, tense, as he stares down at the torn vibranium in his hand. He only pulled it apart to test his strength; he was curious. He didn't mean to break it. "I - I'm sorry."

"This is huge," Ned says, still examining the metal, seemingly having missed the apology. "You were definitely strong before, but... nobody's _this_ strong. What happened? Did you get jacked-up powers or something? While you were missing?"

Peter feels like he's going to vomit. "I don't know," he says, the room spinning. "I... I don't know."

"Woah," Ned cuts in, and suddenly there's a hand steadying him. Peter looks up. "Are you okay? You look really pale, Peter -"

"I'm fine," Peter answers. "Don't worry."

Ned eyes him. "Okay."

"I have to go," Peter says, making a show of checking his watch. He isn't sure why he suddenly feels the need to _get out_ , but the room is too small and his heartbeat is too fast. "I'll see you tomorrow, and thank you, Ned." He dumps the other half of the metal in Ned's hands and scoops up his backpack, making for the door.

"Uh... bye, Peter," Ned calls after him, still standing in the same spot, holding the pieces of vibranium and looking stunned. Peter doesn't look back, and he doesn't breathe properly until he's onto the street and figuring out which way is home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i imagine "ned?" "hmm?" "my hand is stuck" to have the same energy as that drake and josh door meme
> 
> on a more serious note, the mystery grows! does anyone have any theories about the new piece of the puzzle?


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for your comments last chapter! this chapter was, honestly, one of my favorites to write. i hope you all enjoy it just as much - it is, i believe it should be called, the _calm before the storm_. here we go!

Friday, in contrast to the chattiness of the previous days, brings a quiet Ned and an equally quiet Peter. He's still not over the vibranium incident. He doesn't think Ned was exaggerating when he called the metal unbreakable, but somehow Peter ripped it apart.

_Did you get jacked-up powers or something? While you were missing?_

That's what worries him the most. Peter doesn't know what happened to him during those thirty-six days, and that alone is terrifying; add in the fact that he came back different, though, _stronger_ , and Peter wants to crawl away and hide in a ball. Anything could have taken place, and at this rate he'll never know.

_There is a chance Peter's memories will be hard, if not impossible, to recover._

Peter might have to spend the rest of his life with a missing month that nobody around him can explain, forever wondering what happened. It all hits him at once, then. He's Spider-Man. He's an Avenger. He's a nephew. He's a student. He's a friend. He has _so much_ responsibility, and Peter's not sure he can cope, not when he's struggling to pick up from where he left off without memories. The school day passes in a fugue, Peter stuck in his worried spiral. May drives him up to the Facility when he gets home from school. If the ride to Queens was a lazy river, the return trip is an icy glacier. Peter doesn't say a word, and neither does May. She just says goodbye at the door, and kisses his forehead.

"You have a good weekend, okay, honey? I'll be back to take you home on Sunday," May tells him. "Don't want you trying to get back yourself and getting lost," she adds, tone humorous, trying to lighten the mood.

Peter musters up a smile, and hugs her farewell.

Tony is waiting for him inside. "Hey, kid," he greets, just like the last time. "Thought we'd take a quick trip round the lab we're working in tomorrow. That sound good?"

"Yeah," says Peter. He doesn't have the heart to dredge up anything more enthusiastic.

A flash of something he can't name flits across Tony's face, and then they're in the elevator, silent.

" _Sublevel seven_ ," FRIDAY says eventually. Tony doesn't talk, still; just clears his throat and steps out.

The lab in front of them is huge, taking up the entire floor. A huge, long cabinet of Iron Man suits covers the left wall, and there's a huge assembly machine to the right. There's a large, empty space by the far end of the room, and from the nearby fire extinguisher and suspiciously scorched wall Peter guesses it must be used for testing. Desks right before them are covered in electronics, miscellaneous wiring and a couple of robots. As Peter stares, one of them seems to perk up, waving its arm excitedly.

"Hey, dummy," he hears Tony mutter. The man takes a few steps forward, fully into the space, before turning round and gesturing. "Welcome to the lab," he announces, louder. "Saturdays are usually internship days, and that's where you like to sit." He points to a desk beside the waving robot. It's slightly more clean, though not significantly. "We normally just work on whatever takes our fancy, so..."

Tony keeps talking, pointing to different bits of the lab, but Peter zones out from the conversation. Something is up with Tony, _still_. Peter thought he'd worked the reason he was being so strange out, but evidently he was wrong. Now, suddenly, the man wants to spend time with Peter. He's showing him around his _personal_ lab, even, the one that FRIDAY told him only four people have access to.

"Why are you doing this?" Peter asks suddenly. Tony freezes mid-sentence, and turns.

"What?"

"Why are you pretending to be interested?" he demands, and Peter can't stop the words. He's been so stressed and worried, pretty much since Tony found him, and his barrier evaporates at Tony's shocked look.

"Kid, I -"

"You haven't talked to me for days," Peter says, hating how petulant he sounds. "What's changed? Why do you want anything to do with me now after just... ignoring me?" He doesn't blame Tony for keeping his distance, all things considered; he's the only other person that heard Cho say the memories were Peter's fault. It still stings, though, and this sudden contact is almost worse. He just wants Tony to finally _explain_ \- explain why he got the Avengers to lie, explain his loaded absences.

Tony's expression cracks. "I... _shit_." He takes a breath before speaking. "I'm not good at coping with stuff like this, kid. Emotion, and..." He waves a hand, grimacing. "I just get scared. If I'm being totally honest, I had no idea how to deal with you not recognizing me." He pauses for a second. "So I just... didn't."

"I'm sorry," Peter says quietly. The anger in him is fading, now, solidifying into something cold in his gut.

Tony shakes his head. "No. It's not your fault we haven't talked. I should have talked to you. This is on me."

Peter's eyes are burning. He looks down, fidgeting. "I didn't... I meant the, uh, the whole thing. And... I mean, I _get_ why you wanted to stay away, because this is all on me, but -"

"Who said that?"

"It doesn't matter, it -"

"Who said that, kid?" Tony repeats, and Peter looks up to see his intense gaze. "Because I'd like to kick their ass. _None_ of this is your fault, Peter. Who do I need to go slap?"

"This kid at school," Peter tells him.

Tony lets out a huff. "Let me guess. Flash?" Peter nods. "Jesus, that kid. He's been an asshole to you for years. Don't... don't listen to him, alright?"

"Okay," Peter says, voice coming out half-strangled.

"The real question is," Tony continues, "why did you believe him?"

_Something psychological is causing the amnesia._

Peter feels his cheeks redden as the restless need to fidget gets worse. "I..." Tony just looks at him patiently, waiting, and Peter feels his restraint fall apart. "Cho told you it was my fault," he forces out.

"Oh, kid. You heard that?"

Peter nods mutely.

"That's on me, too. I forgot about your... yeah," Tony says, getting up and moving closer to Peter. "But, Peter, that's not what she meant."

"Isn't it?" Peter chokes out. "She said it was psychological. She said something in me didn't want to come back. It's _my fault_."

"I have PTSD," Tony suddenly announces, and Peter goes quiet, staring. "I've been formally diagnosed. I go to therapy. I have bad days, I have good days, I have days when I don't even notice, I have nights where I can't sleep at all. It's literally the definition of in my head. So tell me, Peter. Is it my fault?"

"No, of course not! You -"

" _Exactly_ ," Tony says, cutting Peter off. "My condition is real, and so is yours. It took me a damn while to understand, but it doesn't matter if something is mental or physical or whatever else, okay? And it's not your fault, kid. I need you to believe that." He breaks off, and Peter can feel his eyes on him. "Helen's a fantastic doctor," Tony says, quietly. "She just doesn't know how to soften her words sometimes. It's not like you just up and decided to become an amnesiac, okay? She was talking about something subconscious. Out of your control."

God, Peter feels stupid. He's been so upset about this, and Tony's just explaining logically why he was being absolutely ridiculous.

"Hey, hey! Don't do that," Tony interrupts, and Peter blinks the moisture from his eyes to see the man put a hand over his. He didn't even realize he'd started clenching his fingers tightly. "It's alright, Peter. It's okay."

"Okay," Peter whispers.

"C'mere, kid," Tony says softly, and hugs Peter. Peter wraps his arms around Tony's torso. "I'm sorry for shutting you out."

Peter hugs him tighter. "I'm sorry for not talking to you," he says, making Tony snort.

"I swear, kiddo, we do this every month," he mock-complains. Peter grins. "We both need communication lessons, huh?"

That's when it occurs to Peter: the other big thing. _Spider-Man._

"Look, I... have something I probably need to tell you," Tony begins, just as Peter speaks.

"I need to tell you something," he says, and they both stare at each other for a second.

"Okay. You want to get it off your chest first, kid?" Tony asks.

"I know about Spider-Man," he blurts, and Tony freezes.

"Pete -"

"I found the mask. And I talked to Ned, and he showed me what I could do, and then he showed me this stuff called vibranium," Peter continues, staring at his fingers twisting themselves round each other, unable to stop the barrage of words that force themselves out of him. "And I - Tony, I _broke_ it, but he said it was unbreakable, and -"

" _Hey_ , kid," Tony says, voice loud, and Peter looks up to see him suddenly close. There's concern in his eyes. "Just breathe, okay? Breathe with me. In... out. You're okay." Peter does what he says, heart pounding. He wants to cry or vomit, or maybe both. "You're okay," Tony repeats. They stay like that, just breathing, for a few minutes. Eventually Peter's heart rate is back under control, and Tony speaks again. "What do you mean, you broke the vibranium?"

Peter swallows. "I just ripped it. In half. Like -" He mimes the action, pulling his hands apart, and tries not to notice when Tony stiffens.

"You did that?" he asks. "With... just with your hands?"

Peter nods.

Tony lets out a breath. "Jeez, kid. That's... that is something. You couldn't do that before, could you?"

"Ned said I couldn't," Peter admits, voice quiet.

"Alright." Tony pauses for a second, and Peter knows the same thoughts are running through their heads. _What happened?_

"What were you going to say?" Peter asks, trying to switch the subject.

Tony lets out a half-laugh. "I was going to tell you about Spider-Man, actually. But..."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry we didn't tell you earlier, Peter. I asked everyone not to mention it," he admits. "Spider-Man is... you've done a huge amount of good. Incredible good, don't get me wrong. But you get into dangerous situations so often, and you're... you're my responsibility, Peter. I couldn't let you face them this soon without your training, and without knowledge of your equipment, and without the experience -"

"It's okay, Tony," Peter says, because he can see the older man getting distressed. His words set something odd in the back of Peter's mind off, though. _You're my_ responsibility. It's like the word has hidden meaning he _just_ can't grasp.

Tony shakes his head. "No, it's not," he refutes. "It's not our choice to make to tell you or not, and I'm sorry we didn't realize that earlier."

Peter smiles at him. "Does this mean I'm an Avenger again?"

Tony rolls his eyes. "You never stopped being one, kid. You just took a little break."

Peter can't help the way his smile stretches into a gigawatt-grin. "Thanks, Tony. And you're right," he adds, feeling the need to say it. "I don't remember, and I don't have the experience, but I need to learn again at some point, right? So thank you. For letting me carry on."

"It's no problem, kid," Tony says warmly.

" _Boss_ ," FRIDAY cuts in suddenly, making both of them look up, " _the time is currently eleven P.M. This is your sleep alarm_."

"Thanks, FRI," Tony says. To Peter, he elaborates, "I've got an alarm set to remind me to stop working and sleep. It's... the best way I've found to keep myself level. Anyway, it's probably bedtime for both of us, huh, kiddo?"

Peter nods. "Probably," he agrees, and feels himself yawning.

"Let's head up," Tony says, and they walk over to the elevator and up to sublevel five. Tony gives Peter a smile and a shoulder-squeeze just before they go into their separate rooms.

That night, Peter gets the best sleep he can ever remember having.


	11. Chapter 11

Saturday morning brings an unexpected broadcast. Tony enters the third floor of the Compound, the newly-breaking light shining through the wide windows, to find a message from an unknown source waiting in the Avengers' conference room. It's an irregularity, perhaps a threat, and so he promptly calls a meeting. He even includes Barnes; he's feeling generous today. Tony only hesitates for a second before adding Peter, remembering their conversation last night. Once FRIDAY's notified everyone, it takes fifteen minutes for all of them to appear. Steve is among the first, early riser that he is, followed by the ever-prepared Natasha and Peter, buzzing with excitement. Wilson and Barnes are next; Rhodes is still off in the UN headquarters and Tony knows Bruce is gone for the day, so they end up waiting ten minutes for Barton to show up. He swaggers in eventually, rubbing his hair with a towel.

"Told you he sleeps in, Peter," Wilson snarks, and Tony looks round to see him grinning at the kid. Barton rolls his eyes.

"Sorry, everyone," he says, drawing closer to Wilson. "I was in the middle of _showering_ when you called." On _showering_ , Barton throws the towel at Wilson who ducks, laughing.

"What happened, Tony?" Steve asks, pulling the attention of the room back to them."

Tony clears his throat. "Someone sent us a transmission early this morning. It's nobody we know, and FRIDAY can't determine anything about its origin. I thought I'd get everyone together in case it's important."

Steve nods, and Natasha narrows her eyes in a manner that suggests she agrees. "It could be related to HYDRA's recent movement," she points out. From across the room Peter jerks, almost imperceptibly. Tony narrows his eyes.

"You okay, kid?" he asks, and Peter's head snaps up.

"What?" he blurts. "Yes. Yeah."

Tony raises an eyebrow, about to speak again, when he hears Wilson mutter, "I bet you fifty bucks it's a rick-roll."

"Done," Barton whispers.

Tony resists the urge to roll his eyes, attention returning to the broadcast. "FRIDAY, play the transmission."

There's a second of silence before intense static fills the room, and Peter flinches at the vicious noise. Tony scrambles to shut down the broadcast, but just before he does the static ceases. It's replaced by a low, irregularly-pulsing drone at the edge of his hearing. The light atmosphere of Barton and Wilson's teasing evaporates.

"What is that?" Natasha murmurs from behind him.

Peter's squinting at the screen. "It sounds like someone talking, but... I can't tell what they're saying."

Tony's eyes narrow. "FRIDAY, increase volume by fifty percent," he says. The broadcast gets louder, and it becomes obvious that the kid is definitely right. Those are words, chant-like and repetitive, though they're still unclear. "Another twenty."

"Hапряженность," the voice intones, suddenly clear.

Barton swears. "Is that Russian?" he asks, and Tony feels Steve tense instantly beside him.

Natasha curses. "I was right. HYDRA."

"Aпекс."

"Buck," Steve breathes. "Tony, get that off _right now_."

Bucky is frozen in his chair, shaking his head slowly, eyes fixed on the blank screen. "No. No, no, not again -" he repeats, because his treatment in Wakanda isn't finished yet. Tony knows the Russian still holds unbreakable power over him. Those damn words are the reason his parents are -

"Шестьдесят."

"Tony!"

"I'm trying, I'm _trying_!" Tony yells back. "FRIDAY, cut the broadcast!"

"Полночь."

His AI is unresponsive, silent, and dread pools in Tony's stomach. He enters the shutdown command quickly, fingers nearly stumbling over each other at his speed. It does nothing. The mute command doesn't work, either, the voice still booming out too loudly.

"Подводный."

"Shit!" he curses. "I'm locked out. Get Barnes away, right now!"

Steve reaches for Bucky like he's a wild animal, hands out and palms visible. "Stay calm, Buck. We need to go."

Bucky's still shaking his head, but when Tony glances over his face is different.

"Девять."

"This isn't right," he says suddenly, voice clear, expression free of the blind agony Tony saw when Zemo used the words were used against him. "These words. They're... similar, but they're not mine."

"Oбязанность."

"What?" Steve's eyes widen.

"What the hell do you mean, they're not yours?" Tony asks. "What are they doing?"

"Горизонт."

A groan cuts through the air, and Tony's gaze flicks to his left just in time to see Peter stumble into the table behind him. His face is pale, and he's got both hands gripping his head as he trembles slightly. He's whimpering, desperately repeating something Tony can't hear, under his breath. Tony goes cold.

_No_.

"Peter," he says, but the kid doesn't react.

"Два."

" _Peter_ ," he repeats, getting up, taking a step towards him. "Peter, kid, talk to me."

Peter takes a gasping breath, screwing his eyes shut, and Tony crosses the distance between them. He's so close now that he can hear what Peter is saying.

"No, please, stop, don't, don't, don't -"

What happens next happens in slow motion.

He lays a hand on Peter's arm at the same time that the voice speaks.

"крыша."

Tony makes contact and Peter _moves_ , lashing out and shoving him away. He lets out a yell as he's shoved on his ass, winded, trying to get up as shouts fill the room. Natasha is drawing her pistols with a click as Steve grabs his shield, and Barton snatches the bow from his back.

"Stop!" someone yells.

"Don't!" Tony coughs, throwing out a hand, because that's still _Peter_ and Tony'll be damned if he's going to let anyone hurt his kid.

Peter lets out a growl, and the voice starts repeating the ten words. Over and over again, faster each time, and it's just now that Tony is realizing the volume's still increasing. He's lost control of FRIDAY and the broadcast, and above all _Peter_. The kid is in a defensive position, eyes flicking around the room as the Avengers approach him.

"Stand down, son," Steve tries. Peter's gaze locks onto him as he readies the famous shield. "We don't want to use force, but we will if we need to."

Peter cocks his head just slightly, narrowing his eyes, and lunges. He barrels into Steve, who's knocked backward as Natasha bares her teeth and punches towards the Peter's blurred form. He flips out of the way and tackles her, the two of them twisting midair in a move Tony can't comprehend before Natasha is on the ground and Peter stands over her. Wilson's wings clack as they unfold. Tony taps his palm and drags a gauntlet over his hand, readying a concussive blast of light and sound, and Peter takes one look at both them and Clint's drawn arrow before sprinting towards them.

"Look out!" Barton yells, and Wilson dodges to the side. Peter runs right past them and doesn't even slow down, heading straight for -

"Kid, _wait_!" Tony shouts.

Peter ignores him completely and throws up his forearms to cover his face before he sprints through the plate glass separating the briefing room from the floor's corridor. Shattering glass bursts through the air and Peter keeps going, crossing the corridor at blurring speed before he reaches the end and smashes through the window. The world hangs for one long second, Peter’s figure silhouetted against the sky, before he drops like a stone.

"No!"

"Peter!"

" _Shit_ ," someone curses, but Tony can barely hear it over the roaring in his ears.

His heart thuds as he scrambles up, running unsteadily to the shattered window. He skids to a halt and looks over the edge; after several seconds of scanning, there’s no sign of Peter whatsoever. Tony sinks to his knees, barely noticing the tiny shards of glass beneath him.

_He’s gone. Again_. Tony failed his kid _again_.

"Tony," comes a voice, surprisingly calm.

"He’s gone," Tony murmurs. A strange sort of fog has descended on the world, making his brain slow, his panic forcibly dulled. "I lost him again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HE GONE
> 
>  
> 
> ~~yell at me down below!~~
> 
>  
> 
> a few of you caught the plot twist before it arrived, so well done if you managed to predict it! if anyone's interested, i'll explain the trigger words down below. i hope you enjoyed the arrival of the major conflict within this story - thank you, as always, for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for your brilliant responses last chapter! they made me so happy to read. i'm so glad i managed to take some of you by surprise, haha. several of you asked about peter's trigger words, so as they won't be covered in the story i thought i'd explain just before this new chapter!
> 
> essentially, i went through bucky's words and determined a vague pattern to them. so here are peter's, following the rough rules but altered to fit him better!
> 
> tension напряженность - last emotion with tony  
> apex апекс - highest point referencing peter’s fear of heights (he's shown to be nervous on the washington monument in homecoming, and it would have only gotten worse after the vulture incident.)  
> sixty шестьдесят - sixty-two is the inception year of comic spider-man  
> midnight полночь - a special time for peter and tony (when they both do their best sciencing)  
> undersea подводный - the main method used to make the brainwashing stick  
> nine девять - hydra's nine heads  
> responsibility обязанность - peter’s main drive/emotion to fight  
> horizon горизонт - far from home reference in terms of distance  
> two два - other half of sixty-two  
> rooftop крыша - last location as peter parker
> 
> there you go - hope you enjoyed the explanation! without further ado, let's get back to our boy tony.

FRIDAY was hacked.

It's the reason why Tony couldn't stop the broadcast, why the volume spiraled out of his control. The transmission contained a layer of code astonishingly well-hidden and neither he nor she could detect it; on playing it, the executable file seized control of FRIDAY and her systems. After Peter ran, Tony went straight to his lab to fix her. He's been in there for a total of seven hours, now, and it's late afternoon. FRIDAY has been half-disassembled, Tony scouring her code for anything abnormal, and it's only now that he's satisfied. She's passed all his integrity tests. The last thing to do is reboot her, and Tony has been checking everything's going to plan at every stage. He is not letting anything like that hack happen again. One might think he'd learned his lesson after Ultron, but it seems all the great Tony Stark can do is make the same mistakes and hurt the people he loves.

Tony pauses for a moment as FRIDAY boots, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Fuck," he mutters. _Don't think about the kid. Focus._

" _Initialization complete_ ," comes a voice, and he looks up. " _I am back online, Boss_."

"System check," he says.

FRIDAY pauses for a moment. " _All systems clear. The only abnormality is that I seem to be missing seven hours of memory_."

Tony nods. "Someone got into your system," he admits. "You should be good now, though."

" _What happened?_ " she asks.

Tony sighs. "We were sent a virus with the broadcast from this morning. The best guess right now is that is was from HYDRA, but we're keeping the broadcast to make fully sure." The words taste like ash in his mouth. He'd never fully disassembled the organization after the debacle with Barnes, and this is his punishment. He should have taken the chatter Natasha talked about more seriously.

FRIDAY is silent for a second. " _It seems you've been in the lab for the entirety of my memory breach, Boss_." She doesn't phrase it like a typical question, but Tony knows her well enough to recognize the passive-aggressive tone that's scarily similar to Pepper's.

He leans back in his chair. "Yup."

" _And it's been on lockdown since then_."

"Yup," he repeats. He doesn't want Steve or Natasha or anyone shoving their way in here. Lockdown is his way of enforcing privacy. It restricts access to FRIDAY's four authorized personnel: himself, Pepper, Rhodes, and -

_Fuck_.

" _Boss, you haven't eaten all day. Do you want me to order you something?_ "

Tony shakes his head. "It's okay, FRI." If he ate something now, he'd probably be sick. His gut is churning at the thought of the kid.

" _Boss_ -"

"I'm fine, FRIDAY," he says, though he doesn't mean his tone to be as sharp as it comes out. "Don't worry about me."

FRIDAY goes quiet then, and Tony tries not to think about how reproachful the silence is. The floodgates are open, now, though; he's thought about Peter, and now the kid won't leave his mind. So Tony pulls his chair closer to the desk again, and reopens his old files. He spent the time after he went missing the first time to scour the city, using camera feeds and cellphone footage to track where Peter went after that night. He lost track, but now Tony has another lead: HYDRA. He starts working on an algorithm to find agents. They've got a known outfit, a uniform that he can run recognition for, and after the disaster that was Steve and Natasha's dramatic exposé he has some of their identities. Tony loses himself in the work, focusing in on the screen. _If you work, you don't have to think about Peter._

He's jolted out of it by a touch on his shoulder, and Tony instinctively whirls, adrenaline flaring. The hand retracts and Rhodes takes a step back.

"Hey, Tones. Just me," he says, holding his hands up.

Tony lets out a breath and relaxes slightly. "What are you doing here?" he asks.

Rhodes jerks a thumb up at the ceiling. "FRIDAY called me."

"Did she, now?" Tony mutters.

" _I was worried, Boss_ ," FRIDAY pipes up, and Rhodes nods.

"Everyone is, Tones. We know how close you were to him, but you can't help him if you hurt yourself in the process," Rhodes says gently.

Tony lets his mask shutter into place, turning back round to his computer. "What is this, a team ambush?" he asks. "Thanks for checking up on me, Rhodes, but I'm fine. Just busy."

"I've been your friend since MIT. That is not gonna work on me," the colonel replies dryly. "You can't do this by yourself."

Rhodes' words hit a nerve. Tony knows this, because his senses suddenly go on full awareness. It's an odd quirk of his; when someone gets close to his cover, his brain initiates red alert. "I can," he says, unable to smooth all the tightness from his voice, "and I'm going to. I'm close, Rhodey, I know it."

Rhodes sighs. "Fine. You don't _have_ to do this alone, Tones. Let us help."

_I don't deserve help_ , Tony's mind tells him. There's a beat of silence while he tries to come up with an appropriate verbal response, and then -

"Huh?"

"What?" Tony deadpans.

"What did you just say?" Rhodes asks.

Tony stiffens. He didn't mean to say the thought out loud; he must be more tired than he realized.

A sigh from Rhodes. "Listen, Tony, you need to tell me what you mean," he begins, and Tony's self-control snaps like a brittle branch.

"I deserve this, Rhodes, it's that simple. This is _my_ fault, and I have to fix it," Tony mutters. It occurs to him that his cheeks are strangely cold: almost wet. "Both times are on me. I could have made FRIDAY more secure, and -"

"Tony," says Rhodes heavily, the word layered with emotions. The prevalent one is _pity_ , though, and Tony feels a strange concoction of terror and anger bubble up in his gut.

"Don't - don't do that, Rhodes. I know you all think I've got guilt problems, but trust me on this one." He can't help himself; a bitter laugh escapes him. "It's _all_ on me."

Rhodes persists. "Tony, you can't blame yourself for this."

"Really? _Really?_ " That's when Tony spins round to face him for the first time, and from the way Rhodes stiffens he can tell the wetness on his cheeks is visible. "It's my fault the kid ran off in the first place." His friend opens his mouth to protest, but Tony barrels on. "He goes patrolling all the time, and I overreacted and it was so _stupid_ , but - Karen sent me an emergency message in the middle of the night and I was so _worried_ , and I had to drag the kid away from a goddamn _stabbing_ ," Tony spills, eyes fixed on the floor as he feels his expression twist. "He woke up afterward and I'd been so scared that I _yelled_ at him. I yelled at my kid, Rhodey, and -"

"Hey, Tony," Rhodes soothes, as Tony breaks off. "It's okay. We'll -"

"It's _not_ okay. Because he got so upset that he started shouting right back. I didn't realize I was cramping his style so much, but he was yelling about space and rules and pressure, and I just fucking _left_. And you know what I did next?" Tony laughs humorlessly, eyes stinging. "I got shitfaced."

Rhodes is silent now.

"The kid came to apologize a couple hours later. To _me_. God knows I didn't deserve it, but he tried anyway. And he found me drunk and angry, and... I can't even _remember_ what I said to him, but it really fucking got to him. I woke up the next morning with a shitty hangover and FRIDAY telling me Peter left the compound after he saw me, at midnight, and that... he didn't come back after that. And now he's gone _again_ , Rhodey, my kid is gone and it's _my fault_."

Tony lets out a choked noise, vision blurring, and then there's an arm around his back and a hand on his arm. "It's okay," Rhodes says softly. "Let it out, Tones."

Tony leans into Rhodes' touch, and cries. They spend what feels like forever just _there_ , Rhodes holding him, and slowly Tony comes back to himself.

_Stark men are made of iron._

"I'm sorry," Tony chokes out, though he's not entirely sure who to.

"It's fine, Tones. Everyone needs to cry," Rhodes tells him, and Tony does.

When they finally leave the lab, to FRIDAY's relief, Rhodes takes him back up to the communal areas. Everyone's still there, Steve pacing in the back of the room, and as they enter he looks up.

"Tony," he greets, coming over. "Are you okay."

Tony nods. "I will be. After we get my kid back. Where are we at?" he calls to the larger ensemble, who refocus and snap to attention.

"The signature is definitely HYDRA," Natasha says. "We know that for certain now."

"We're trying to draw up a map of bases," Barton adds, "but it's taking a long while."

" _I may be able to help_ ," FRIDAY offers suddenly. " _Enhanced though Peter is, there is a limited locus of places he could have escaped from, given the original position Boss found him in. Additionally, the base would need to be within a certain distance from the Facility_."

Tony's eyes widen. "FRI, you genius," he breathes, and strides over to the map Barton is constructing at Barnes' instruction. Of _course_ : with all the help he's getting from Wakanda, the man is becoming adept at recalling information from his Winter Soldier days. Knowing the list of bases, even if limited, is a logical follow-on. Tony goes straight for the ex-HYDRA soldier, who straightens up with a frown. "How many bases do you know around here?" he asks.

Barnes looks towards the screen, pausing for a second as his eyes sweep the map. "Define around."

The words are barely out of his mouth when FRIDAY starts ringing a perimeter in red. They end up with a flattened oval of likely locations, ringing across the Lower East Side up to the Bronx.

"There's only one within that area," Bucky says, voice tight. "Tompkins Square Park."

FRIDAY's map zooms in on a swathe of green in the Lower East Side.

"They're under a _public park?_ " Wilson says in disbelief.

"FRIDAY, show me surveillance," Tony commands. Three video feeds appear in front of him. "Wind it back. Find something interesting."

The screen distorts slightly as the AI analyses the data, and suddenly there's one camera focused in front of them. " _Feed two_ ," FRIDAY says. " _Eleven hours ago_."

The room holds its breath for one, tense moment before the video plays, and a tight-knit group of men in black uniforms appears on screen.

" _There_ ," Natasha breathes.

The Avengers watch as they walk further into the park, towards a cluster of elm trees. The park is famous for those, Tony recalls; there aren't many large collections of the species left in America, making these ones rare. As the HYDRA soldiers continue into the trees, they start disappearing one by one. There's a whole hidden staircase just out of view, concealed by the elms.

"Holy _shit_ ," Barton curses.

"We gotta go," Tony says, standing up. "Everyone, get ready. We're leaving as soon as we can."

The room scrambles into activity, and everyone rushes out to prepare. Tony's been working on a new suit, recently, and this is the perfect time to deploy it. He double-taps the power source sitting on his chest and nanotech races across his body as he strides towards the still-smashed window, twisting and spreading and covering until he's completely concealed by red and gold. The familiar HUD lights up, stretching out in front of him.

"You in there, FRI?" Tony asks.

" _Ready when you need me, Boss_ ," she answers, and he feels himself tense behind the mask.

"Let's go get our boy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of a heart-to-heart in this chapter, and exactly what happened before peter went missing is revealed! tony is trying his absolute hardest, but he slips up badly sometimes just like in every recovery process. this time, it was an especially bad relapse and it happened in front of peter. it's an awful situation for both of them.
> 
> hope you all enjoyed the chapter. next up, avengers assemble!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're getting to the biggest climax now - it's the chapter you have(n't) been waiting for! one fight you'd expect, and one you might not.
> 
> please enjoy!

It's dark when they arrive at the park. Rhodes and Tony fly with Wilson, while Natasha, Steve and Barton race over on motorbikes. Barnes stays at the compound; it's too risky for him to be involved in an active HYDRA mission. Tony is the first one to touch down, looking around to spot the cluster of elm trees, and sprints towards it when he sees it. The grass slopes downwards, and then there's a suspiciously heavy-looking door set into the park ground. _Park Staff Only_ , it reads.

"Jackpot. It's here," he says over comms, pointing.

Barton is the first to catch up, and without a word he steps forward and examines the door. "This is definitely reinforced," he comments, scrutinizing the hinges. "Someone's damaged this door, relatively recently."

Steve is next, Wilson and Natasha hot on his heels. As Tony turns to face them, Rhodes drops from the sky with a gentle _thump_.

"How do we get in?" Steve asks. He's always been like that: straight to business as soon as the mission begins. This time, Tony appreciates the efficiency beyond words.

"I'll take care of the door," he states. "I can cut it open. We need to prepare for guards, though, so -"

"Hawkeye and I will take care of it," Natasha cuts in. They lock eyes, and she gives Tony a slight nod. _Trust me._

"Fine," he agrees. "You ready?"

At Barton's acknowledgement, he turns to face the door and raises his arm. Tony's nanobots quickly stack and merge to form a laser. He cuts the entrance open, carving a rectangle just smaller than the door itself, and the two superspies dart through and make quick work of the next two guards. One more door awaits, and he destroys it the same way, quickly and quietly. Steve catches the cut metal on the way down, lowering it gently to stay silent. The facility that stretches before them is, essentially, a long corridor. There are doors spaced at random intervals that he can spot, but no enemies on the move; Barnes had explained its status as a relatively small outpost, mentioning the likely lack of mobile guards. Tony creeps further in, thinning the nanobots on the soles of his feet to minimize the noise; it only takes him a few seconds before he realizes the layout of the base isn't as simple as he thought. The path diverges left, right and straight. He can't help but wonder just how this got constructed under the radar.

"Guys," he whispers, stopping. Steve throws up a clenched hand. "We need to split up."

Barton nods. "Fine. I'll take left with Falcon."

"War Machine and I will go right," Steve adds. "Remember, quiet mode on comms. We don't want to be detected."

The rest of the team nods, muting their earpieces before splitting off in pairs.

"Guess that leaves you and me, huh?" Natasha says quietly, raising an eyebrow.

"Sure does," Tony whispers back, and sneaks forward.

The first door they come to is on their left. It looks like a storage room at first glance, a small square of glass cut into the top of the entrance. Natasha peeks over the edge for a second before crouching down again.

"I count five," she whispers.

Tony nods. "Got it. You want to take point?"

"Gladly," she replies, eyes glinting in the light.

Natasha creeps up to grab the door-handle, and slowly pulls it open. She throws out her wrist and Tony sees one of her tiny Widow's Bite gadgets leap into the room. _Taser Disk_ , Tony recalls. She slinks in next, keeping low, and he follows. The disk skids into the center of the chatting soldiers.

"What the hell?" one of them mutters, nudging the device with his foot. Blue light crackles through the air and he lets out a scream, collapsing. The mental timer in Tony's head starts whizzing down.

Repulsors form on his hands and he leaps forward to meet the soldier that turns towards him. He punches his jaw and the guy crumples, cold, to the ground. Tony spins and the weapons whine as he releases the charge, the man taking the full brunt of the blast as he's thrown across the room. There's a choked yelp as Natasha socks the final guy in the jaw, her already-defeated mark lying unconscious by her feet, and he collapses. She steps over him.

"Well," she says, bending down to pick up the now-depleted disk, "I thought they'd put up more of a fight."

Tony smirks despite the situation. "Membership standards getting lower for the Nazis, huh? Wouldn't have guessed."

Natasha huffs a laugh. "Funny, Stark. Let's keep going."

The rest of the rooms dotting the corridors are strangely empty, and it takes four doors leading to blank white walls before they finally come to a populated one. Three guards are inside, and Tony and Natasha dispatch them in the same manner as the previous group. The minor scuffle is the only action they get as they continue sweeping the base, dread building in Tony's gut at each empty room. Then, they find Peter.

They see the guards first. There's a large indent in the wall, almost like a mini corridor branching off, and two guards flanking a reinforced door. Tony pulls back and Natasha hisses a curse in Russian.

"He's got to be in there," she says.

Tony takes a breath, suddenly hyper-aware of his own heartbeat. _Stay calm_ , he tells himself. "We take out the guards first. I'm on left."

Natasha nods once before she darts forward, Tony whipping his arm up and firing a silenced repulsor. His guard lets out a groan as he collapses, just as Natasha finishes decking hers. She steps away.

"Are you ready?" she asks. Tony can hear the unspoken words: _you're too close to this. Can I trust you to keep your head?_

He nods an affirmative, and the nanobots build at his command to reform the laser. Cutting the door open is slow work; they have no idea what's inside, so they need to minimize the volume as much as they can. Natasha lowers the center section down to the floor as subtly as she can once it's carved out, and then they both creep forward and through. Tony enters first, crouched low. The room looks just like a hospital surgery from a horror film. There's a shining metal table before them, half-concealed by the white-coated man leaning over it, and what looks like a body restrained on top of it. Surgical lights and equipment hang overhead, a rolled sheaf of tools open on a trolley beside him. _Shit_. The body is still, the only sign of it being alive the slow, shallow rise and fall of its chest. Tony straightens slightly higher, just so he can see the subject's face. Curled hair, a defined profile: it's Peter. Peter, who is about to be _tortured_.

"Oh, _God_ ," Tony mutters, but before he can move towards the kid Natasha's hand flies out to stop him.

"Wait," she hisses, and Tony is about to shake her off when suddenly the scientist speaks.

"This room is soundproof," he says, reaching for the tools. He straightens them out, corners aligning with the trolley's. "Even so, I expect you to stay silent. I understand the process of memory obstruction was completed successfully, and so you may need a reminder on precisely why this punishment is necessary." _Memory obstruction_. Tony's stomach drops, panic rising. The scientist leans closer, looming over Peter. "You ran away. HYDRA will not tolerate this again. You would do wise to remember. Do I make myself clear?" There's a pause, but whatever Peter does must be approved of; the man nods. "Good. Then we will begin." He reaches for the toolkit, running his fingers along the metal instruments like they're toys. "I think this one will serve nicely."

Tony sees red.

He leaps up. "Get the _hell_ away from my kid," he growls, not bothering to silence the whine of his repulsor as he stretches his palm towards the scientist. The man freezes, and turns. He opens his mouth, but Tony is faster. "Hands up. Not one word. Go help him," he says, quieter, to Natasha. She nods and crosses over to where Peter is strapped down. Tony keeps his eyes fixed on the scientist, aim unwavering.

Natasha walks the long way around to avoid getting surprised by the HYDRA scientist, and immediately her nimble fingers start working on the restraints. It takes a second, the lockpick suddenly in her hand clicking before the cuffs spring open. Peter doesn't move, doesn't jump up like Tony half-expects him to. Even with - _fuck_ , he thinks - the new memory loss, the kid should at least be panicking, for a multitude of reasons. Natasha comes to the conclusion at the same time as Tony; her head jerks up, staring at the scientist.

"What have you done?" she hisses, taking a step forward.

The man doesn't respond, eyes flicking between Peter and Natasha. The spy stalks closer again, and he half-flinches. He opens his mouth to shout, "Солдат, атакуй!"

Tony lets out a curse and fires, but he can't stop the words in time. The scientist crashes to the ground and stops moving. In a split-second Peter is up, and then he's lashing out with a vicious kick that smashes into Natasha's stomach. She lets out a cry as the force launches her backwards, and then there's a sickening _crack_ as her head hits the wall hard. She crumples on the ground.

Terror races through Tony. "Nat!" he yells. She doesn't reply, and Peter turns slowly to face him.

The abyss yawns before him, and it looks just like the expression in Peter's eyes. _Empty_. The kid stands motionless for a few drawn-out seconds. They might as well be eternities to Tony.

"Kid," he says softly. "Peter, it's me."

Peter watches him blankly.

"I know you can fight this," Tony tells him. The air hangs between them, stilled. "You're strong, kid. You're so damn strong. You can beat this."

Peter doesn't move, just tilts his head slightly: the way a predator would assess prey, Tony thinks.

"FRIDAY," he murmurs, keeping his eyes locked with the kid's, "I need you. Come online." He'd asked her to stay off active command just before they left to preserve power, but from the looks of it Tony's going to need all the help he can get.

" _Here, Boss_ ," she says, voice oddly serious. Tony supposes she can see his visual feed, too, and can see the blank-faced teenager standing ready in front of him.

"Take the bots. I need something non-lethal," he mutters, hoping to God his voice is quiet enough that Peter can't hear it, though he knows it could never be.

" _Concussive blast_ ," FRIDAY says as the bots crawl up his right arm and materialize.

Tony levels the weapon at Peter and fires, a shockwave tearing through the air. Peter flips out of the way of the blast and darts to close the distance, and then he's lashing out and pain lances up Tony's arm as FRIDAY speaks in his ear.

" _Your left forearm has been badly damaged, Boss, and so has the armor. My sensors detect a serious compound fracture. Concussive blast device offline_."

"Shit," he curses, spikes of pain jittering through the injury. "Kid, stop!"

Tony blinks away the warnings crowding his vision and lunges back for Peter, but the kid has already danced out of the way. He swings up a repulsor but Peter darts to the right, escaping Tony's field of view. The next thing he knows, agony bursts in the small of his back.

"Fuck, _fuck_  -" he cries out, armor crushing his spine.

" _Boss, this isn't a fight you can win. Severe damage will occur to your spine with another blow. Nanobot levels decreasing_ ," FRIDAY rattles off urgently, but by then Peter's had time to reappear and vanish and send another superhuman punch into Tony's leg.

The armor caves inwards and Tony collapses, knee giving out as his leg screams out in pain. The metal doesn't move when he tries to stagger upright, and that's when the kid's game becomes clear. He's crippling Tony, punch by punch, and Tony's rapidly losing the ability to fight back.

" _Armor patella joint crushed. Right leg mobility at zero percent. Boss_  -"

"I know, I know, shit - Peter, stop!" _Fuck_. "FRIDAY, activate comm," he gasps. "I found Peter, we're about five-hundred meters down the center corri -"

A fist slams into the side of his head and Tony's world wheels white with agony, the earpiece cracking and letting out a dying, piercingly-loud whine.

FRIDAY's voice crackles through his helmet. " _Comm destroyed. Your jaw is broken and you have sustained a severe concussion_."

The agony blurs and fades, just slightly, and the world spins. _No shit_ , he thinks, and then, _I'm going to die_.

He _is_ , though, Tony realizes. Peter isn't home anymore, and he's currently trying his best to kill him. It's _working_. Tony's nanobot count is below fifty-percent; he can't repair any damage like this. The automatic fail-safe taking away his micro-control of the suit has kicked in, and the injury Peter's inflicting on him _through_ the goddamn suit is almost too much for him to handle. Peter's newfound strength, ripping apart fucking _Vibranium_ , is tearing through the armor like tissue paper. If Tony doesn't do something, he's going to die. Peter would never forgive himself if he killed Tony.

That's when it occurs to him, and for a split second he's horrified at himself. He's going to die, though, right here, if he doesn't do it.

_I'm so sorry, kid_ , he thinks. His jaw lights up in agony as he chokes out, "FRIDAY, replay the HYDRA -"

Peter's next punch steals the breath from his lungs, and it's like Tony's chest collapses into itself. He's barely aware of his own sharp, short scream.

"Hапряженность," echoes a voice through the room, and Peter near-flinches.

A disgusting sense of relief steals over Tony. FRIDAY got what he meant. Vaguely, he hears Peter growl at the word.

"Aпекс."

The audio is sped up, this time, with significantly less delay between the words. Foggily, Tony mentally thanks the AI. She's using the suit's inbuilt speakers.

"Шестьдесят."

There's a snarl from his left and Tony reacts instinctively, throwing up his last good arm to protect the speakers as Peter strikes.

"Полночь."

The blow connects and Tony lets out an aborted howl of pain, the injury sparking electric shocks of agony. FRIDAY doesn't speak; she's too focused on playing the audio.

"Подводный."

Peter's face twists again, though his eyes are becoming foggier by the second. He moves slower this time, but the kick he sends spiraling into Tony's side is no less agonizing.

"Девять."

Tony's breath hisses, pain making him dizzy, his vision whiting out for a second. The air escapes from his lungs and he struggles to get it back. This is it. He can't move, paralyzed and trapped by the metal meant to protect him.

"Oбязанность."

Peter slows visibly, hands shooting up to his head as he clutches it. He stumbles to a stop, unsteady.

"Горизонт."

"I'm sorry, kid," Tony chokes out.

"Два."

There's a growl of pain from the kid and his head jerks up, eyes flashing with a torrent of emotion. He snarls and leaps towards Tony just as the tenth word rings out.

"Kрыша."

"I'm so sorry," he whispers again, though the apology could never be enough. The scientist's voice replays in his mind and he imitates it and yells "Солдат, _remember!_ "

Peter freezes in place. Tony's breath stutters. The kid is still, motionless for a second, before he sways slightly.

"Kid?" Tony whispers.

Peter looks up, confusion and pain swirling in his eyes. "Mr. Stark?" he slurs, and then his eyes roll back in his head and he crumples to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

"Peter!"

Footsteps ring and there's a holler. Tony's heart slams against his sternum as a voice calls his name, but he can't _move_ to help Peter or see who's coming. Panic beats like a drum in his chest.

"Tony! Tony, what happened?" Steve's voice shouts, and then suddenly he's kneeling in front of him. From the edges of his vision Tony sees Clint appear, racing towards the back of the room. Vaguely, he hears the archer yell Natasha's name.

Tony takes a struggling breath, realizing how damaged his chest is. Metal is compressing his torso, squeezing, inescapable, and he can't breathe. The only noise that escapes him is a wheeze, and Steve's eyes seem to clear with understanding. The soldier puts a steadying hand on Tony's shoulder and grabs the Iron Man helmet, quickly yanking it off. The pain from Tony's jaw being jostled further barely registers in the haze of agony that's settled over him. Steve reaches for Tony's neck, the joint where helmet meets armor, and _pulls_. The already-damaged nanobots disintegrate easily, the metal ripping in half like paper as Steve destroys it. The suit keeping him restrained falls away and Tony collapses forward, hitting the ground and gasping for air.

"The words," he chokes out, blindly grabbing on to the hands that reach to steady him, vision blurring and darkening. "The words, Steve, I used the damn words, _fuck_ -"

_Oh, God. What have I done?_

"Tony, stay with me," someone says, voice urgent. "Keep -"

He blacks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tony what have you DONE


	14. Chapter 14

_Peter comes to with metal restraints holding him down. Vibranium. Unbreakable. Something is happening: there's a screen filled with static hovering in front of his vision. His spider-sense is a dull, warning throb in the back of his head._

_Someone says something in Russian above him, and Peter grits his teeth as he tests one of his bonds. It doesn't move. There's a curt reply from another scientist, he presumes, and then a slight whirring sound enters the edge of his hearing. He strains to listen as it gets louder, a pattern within the static. Pain pricks in his mind._

_"Stop," Peter protests faintly, brow furrowing. The static intensifies. There's another rip of agony through his brain, and he lets out a whimper of pain. "Stop!"_

_Another Russian word, and then the noise increases again. The pattern gets more distinct, wavering on the edge of Peter's consciousness as he tugs at the restraints again, and the whine of pain within his head gets worse and worse. The static doesn't stop. Peter gasps for breath._

_He's going to die here._

_He's actually going to die, because the agony in his mind is going to_ kill _him right here at the hands of goddamn HYDRA. Peter lets out a scream._

_"Quiet, spider," comes a voice. His skin crawls. "In time, you will forget this entirely."_

_That's when Peter's spider-sense flares violently, and Peter rips at his restraints again. No._ No _. He can't forget May, or Ned, or Tony, or any of the Avengers or his classmates -_

_His mind stutters to a halt, though the pain is still in full force. His classmates. He can remember their faces, but where are they from? There's Ned, and MJ, and Liz, but... Liz moved away, he remembers, to somewhere he's forgotten. He racks his memory briefly, but by that time the thought has dissipated and he doesn't know who he was thinking of originally._

_Peter's eyes widen. His memories are being stolen._

_"No, no, stop!" he cries out, struggling again._

_"Be still," the voice above him hisses, but Peter just bares his teeth and thrashes further. Another command in Russian, and now the static is overloading his senses, crushing his mind with its volume, sending stabbing pain through him._

_"Don't!" Peter screams. He can't forget his family. He desperately repeats their names in his mind, trying to commit them to memory. He will not forget them. He needs to keep them safe from his secret, and he can only do that if... what secret?_

_Tony. May. Ned. MJ. Ben. Happy. Pepper. Rhodey. Natasha. Bruce. Steve. He carries on listing his friends and his family, his team, but agony spurts through his mind and he loses his focus. Peter cries out, though it sounds muffled to his ears._

_Tony. May. Ned. MJ. Ben. Happy. Pepper. Rhodey. Natasha. Steve. He can't help feeling like he's forgotten someone._

_A hand touches his wrist and Peter jerks, and suddenly a clang rips through the air. Peter's arm comes loose, and he shoves aside the shock and the now-screaming voices above him to tear free of the other restraints. He shouldn't be able to break them, he realizes, though he can't remember why. He just needs to run, to escape, to get away from the static destroying his memory. He staggers to his feet and runs, falling unsteadily on his feet before he rips open the door that's suddenly in front of him and runs into the middle of a long corridor. He looks left, and looks right._

_"Stop!" someone shouts, followed by a string of Russian, and Peter sprints away as fast as he can, uncaring of the direction._

_Tony. May. Ned. MJ. Ben. Happy. Pepper. Natasha. Steve. He times the names with his heartbeat, thudding loudly in his ears as he pushes himself faster and faster._

_There's still screaming behind him, and something in the back of his mind lets out a yell that makes Peter stumble sideways. There's the crack of a gun and a hail of bullets flies through the space Peter just occupied. His heart leaps into his throat. Pain stabs through his head again._

_Tony. May. Ned. MJ. Ben. Happy. Pepper. Natasha. He keeps on repeating their names, searing them into his brain, praying the insidious static won't dissolve them like acid._

_The end of the corridor rushes up to meet him, a heavy-duty door blocking his way, but he keeps sprinting faster, holding one arm out. He hits the metal and smashes straight through, the material whining and screeching as it's blown open. Another hail of bullets that misses, and Peter keeps running._

_Tony. May. Ned. MJ. Ben. Happy. Pepper. Natasha._

_The next room has two long benches either side, and Peter sees a crate sitting there with a familiar tee flopping over the side. He lunges for it quickly, flipping open the lid and blindly grabbing the contents. It takes him a second to recognize his clothes and phone, the latter half-smashed and likely not working, and another second to twig that his suit's not there. Two guards are stationed by the door, and they raise their guns and yell as Peter finishes ransacking the crate and flings himself towards them. He runs blindly, destroying the next door the same way, and suddenly there's dark sky above him, the moon shining, green grass stretching out, trees surrounding him. HYDRA is underneath a goddamn_ park _. Peter's momentarily stunned, and he freezes._

_Tony. May. Ned. Ben. Happy. Pepper. Natasha._

_It's all the time one goon needs to let rip another barrage of bullets. Peter dodges desperately, unsteadily, at the last second, but one of the bullets catches his leg and Peter suppresses a cry. He starts sprinting again, leg burning, head being ripped apart, heart thumping, threatening to burst out of his chest._

_Tony. May. Ned. Ben. Happy. Pepper._

_Peter vaults over the fence at the edge of the park and carries on, blocking out the shouts of the HYDRA soldiers behind him and the pain in his leg. Buildings stretch before him, and in a flash he_ knows _he can lose them in there. He sprints straight towards them, weaving between alleyways as he goes._

_Tony. May. Ned. Happy. Pepper._

_More shouting from behind him.  Peter sees a building with a half-secluded flat top in front of him, and some forgotten instinct yells at him._

_Tony. May. Ned. Happy._

_He keeps running towards the building, not stopping, and suddenly he's sprinting horizontal up the wall._

_Tony. May. Ned._

_He reaches the top and pulls his weight up as fast as he can, scrambling over to the opposite edge and flattening himself against the neighboring building's wall._

_Tony. May._

_His eyes widen. He's been so preoccupied with escaping that his list of names has shrunk, the pain in his head lessening with every forgotten face. The last one was_ so _important to him, he knows, but the name is lost. He curses silently._

_Tony._ Tony _. Peter screams it inside his mind. Tony._ Don't forget _._

_The shouting is fainter now, and Peter risks a glance down. Soldiers are fanning out, searching with lights strapped to their guns. He presses himself back against the wall. He can't get caught, or... something bad will happen. He can't remember what: and, come to think of it, can't recall who the soldiers are. Why are they looking for him? How did he get up a damn building?_

_He slowly slips down to a sitting position, grimacing as pain in his leg flares. The agony in his mind, though, has faded now, replaced by exhaustion. It's freezing up here, but he needs to sleep. He realizes that he's wearing some kind of hospital gown, thin and white, which won't be helping; he quickly changes into the pile of clothes laying inexplicably beside him, trying to ignore his bleeding leg as he puts on the jeans. Gradually, he tilts and lies down, staring up at the dark sky. All he needs is a short nap, and then he'll be fine. He closes his eyes._

_The next time they open, he's woken by angry beeping._

_Beep. Beep._ Beep.

He opens his eyes.

The beeping continues steadily as he takes a breath, staring up at the white ceiling above him. There's softness underneath him; he's lying on a mattress, with a sheet over him. There's a slight itchiness in his left arm, and he turns his head and looks down to see a needle stuck into it: an IV.

"Peter?" comes a tired whisper, and he glances round to see a long-haired woman sitting by his bedside and squinting at him. The lights are dim, and he blinks. The woman's eyes open fully, wide, and she leans forward.

"Peter, honey, are you awake?"

Peter opens his mouth, but the words die before he can vocalize them. Who is this? She must see his hesitation, because he sees her face fall before she masks it with a watery smile.

"How are you feeling, baby?" she asks.

"I'm, uh..." he begins, a spark of familiarity appearing before he gasps, lightning flashing through his mind. _"May?"_

That's _May_ , his mind screams at him. He _remembers_ her, her glasses and the smell of her perfume and the way she strokes his hair.

May's face slackens for a second before her expression splits into an impossibly wide beam and she practically throws herself at him, hugging him tight. "Oh, baby, I was so scared!" she wails, and pulls back. Her hands are firm on his shoulders, and she stares at him with rapidly-filling eyes. "I thought I'd lost you," she whispers.

"It's okay, May," Peter reassures, pulling her back into the hug. "It's okay. I'm okay."

"God, Peter," she breathes into his hair, hand moving to his head. "I love you so much, baby."

"I love you too, May," he says, voice half-muffled by the hug.

May disengages again, and it's only now that he sees the deep indigo circles under her eyes. Her hair is messy, and she looks like she's been sleeping in the chair for days. A wave of guilt washes over him. "I'll call Helen," May tells him, reaching for something behind him.

A deep ache begins to settle into Peter's bones as she speaks. "He's awake, and he remembers," May says down the phone, voice thrumming with happiness. His whole body is painful, battered, like he's been through hell recently. His mind is still foggy; the events that led up to his medbay stay still aren't clear to him.

The click of a door interrupts his thoughts, and he looks up to see a doctor, with her hair up in a tight bun, walk in. Peter blinks. The woman is familiar in the same way May was, though the feeling is a lot less strong. The doctor obviously understands, because she gives him an understanding smile.

"My name is Dr. Helen Cho, Peter," she says, and his memory clicks.

"Oh my God, Dr. Cho - of _course_ ," Peter blurts.

"How are you feeling?" she questions, the same as May.

Peter nods, and goes to open his mouth when his aunt cuts him off. "You don't have to downplay any of this, sweetheart, just so you know. We're all here for you," she tells him.

He takes a deep breath. "Everything hurts," he admits. "Not badly, but... it aches."

Dr. Cho nods. "That's perfectly normal, Peter. You've been through a lot, and your healing factor has been working overtime. It's natural that you feel run-down. Anything else?"

Peter shakes his head.

Dr. Cho looks like she's about to speak before a familiar voice that triggers a flood of memory floats into the room, and Peter sits upright at the sound.

"What's this bullshit about Peter being awake? I swear to God, if he woke up and nobody told me -"

Tony Stark enters the room, and freezes. Peter's blood runs cold.

Tony's arms are wrapped in matching bandages, and there are small, bright stitches decorating his jaw. Peter recognizes the color as Dr. Cho's designation for Cradle-accelerated surgery. One of his knees is in a brace, and he's leaning on a crutch and limping slightly. Peter can see the edge of a white bandage across his torso peeking out from under his shirt. His eyes widen as he sees Peter.

"Kid," Tony breathes, about to rush forward, but Peter stays frozen. Something horrific is tickling the edge of his memory.

"What happened?" he whispers, hands gripping the bed.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Dr. Cho's face fall.

Tony hesitates. "Peter, I -"

"I did that, didn't I?" Peter chokes out, and his breath suddenly stops coming. The beeping of the heart machine gets faster. "I did that. To you. Me."

_Peter, stop!_

"Honey, it's okay," May speaks up, laying a hand on his arm, but it feels like a vice against his skin and then the blanket is too tight, the IV too itchy, the beeping _too loud_ and the light _too bright_ and Peter lets out a cry, flinging himself away from her touch. The world whites out.


	15. Chapter 15

The next thing Peter registers, his trembling body is pressed against the cold corner of the medbay. Tony is in front of him, expression filled with worry, one hand raised towards him, the other gripping the crutch. May is standing by Peter's bed, and Helen is next to the heart monitor. It's switched off, silent. The lights are darker now. Peter realizes he's ripped the IV out.

"It's okay, Peter," Tony says quietly. "I'm here."

"I hurt you," Peter whispers.

Tony shakes his head, eyes clear and frank. "No. No, you didn't. That wasn't you, kiddo."

Peter lets out a sob, still paralyzed by the anxiety racing through him.

"C'mere, kid," Tony says, holding out one of his white-covered arms. Peter stumbles forward and Tony catches him, the older man's warmth enveloping him. "I got you," he murmurs, stroking Peter's hair.

The action opens the floodgates, and Peter lets himself sob into Tony's chest. "I'm so sorry," he cries.

"It's not your fault. It's okay, Pete," Tony shushes. Peter hugs him tighter, emotion raging through him.

Tony is _hurt_ by his hand, regardless of if he was in control at the time. The thought circles round and round his mind for what feels like an age, before the torrent of feelings ebbs slightly and he pulls away.

"You okay, kid?" Tony asks quietly.

"I'm okay."

Tony squeezes his shoulder, and turns to May and Dr. Cho. "Can I... talk to the kid for a second?"

"Of course. We'll let you catch up," Dr. Cho says, and May gives Peter a bright smile.

"I'm so glad you're okay, baby," she tells him, and then they're both walking out.

Tony doesn't say anything for a long while, just hugging Peter in the same position. He's grateful for the embrace. Tony feels like safety and family and warmth, and Peter lets himself breathe in the moment.

"Do you remember what happened?" he asks eventually.

"Not a lot," Peter admits.

Tony nods. "I guess I'd better tell you, then, hadn't I?"

They move to sit down, Peter back in his bed and Tony on the chair, and then he starts talking. Peter learns that he's been asleep for three days. Tony was unconscious for thirteen hours while Dr. Cho worked on him, using her latest Cradle invention to heal his dangerously-damaged jaw up. The rest of the injuries have been left to themselves, though, to avoid complications. Tony refuses to tell him exactly what they are.

"You don't need that weight on your shoulders, kid," he says. "I know you'll blame yourself for whatever I tell you, so I'm just going to reiterate that it _wasn't you_. I don't blame you for _any_ of this, okay?"

Tony tells him about how much the rest of the Avengers missed him, and how often MJ and Ned have been asking about him. Peter recalls them one-by-one, and relief floods him that MJ isn't still mad. He _remembers_ as Tony carries on, the events clearing in his mind as he tells the story of the past few days. The older man nearly breaks down when he recounts how he used the words on Peter.

"I'm so sorry, kid. I couldn't think of anything else to do, but I -"

"It's okay, Tony," Peter says softly, holding his gaze as it lifts: because it _is_. Tony's panic at using them is evident. There's a weird sort of feeling in his chest, a warm tightness; Peter knows just enough to classify it as _trust_. He _trusts_ Tony.

Tony exhales, stress etched into his face. "I love you so much, kiddo," he admits. "I was so scared. When I... do you remember what happened before you left?"

Peter is silent for a second, searching his memory. It comes to him in a flash: the stabbing, Karen's concerned voice filling his hearing as his stomach burned with pain, and Tony showing up to save his ass; the humiliation he'd felt at being rescued, _again_ , like he couldn't handle himself, and the way they yelled at each other; how awful Peter felt afterwards, and when he made up his mind to apologize.

Tony getting drunk, and throwing the empty bottle dangerously close to him. _Why don't you - you just fuck off, alright? Fuckin'... leave me alone. Don' need you_ , he'd slurred, raving nonsensically about everything and nothing. Peter had known then that it wasn't his Tony sitting there, but a wreck of alcohol and hurt instead. It hadn't stopped the words carving sharp gashes in his heart, and it hadn't stopped him running away.

His eyes go wide. "Mr. Stark -"

"Christ, kid, I -" Tony cuts off suddenly, taking a breath. "I'm sorry. I can't tell you how sorry I am. For all of it, but that - _fuck_ , that's the worst thing I've ever done."

"It's not your fault, Tony," Peter says softly, and he means it. Ned's mom was in rehab for five months, and he had to live through school without his best friend while he was living with cousins. Her dependency wasn't her fault: it was her demon, and he knows it works the same way for Tony. "It wasn't you."

"That's the thing, Pete. It was me. It was me without all the..." He trails off, waving a hand in the air. "All this social nicety shit. Me without a filter."

Peter shakes his head. "No, it wasn't." He raises an eyebrow. "I read a news story once about you peeing in your suit while you were drunk. You're not an idiot. You wouldn't do that normally."

Tony stops dead, the cogs visibly turning in his head. "You got me there, I gotta admit."

Peter shrugs slightly. "Drunk you is an idiot. And I know you're trying to get rid of him."

There's a brief pause, and Tony doesn't speak.

"It's not your fault I ran away," Peter tells him softly.

His voice is thick, and he's looking down. "Thank you, Pete," Tony says, tone strangled.

They end up hugging, Tony leaning over in the chair to wrap his arms fully around Peter, and Dr. Cho wakes them up in the same position hours later. She and Bruce test him for a little while, looking at his recall. He's prompted by a picture of red and blue spandex, and Spider-Man comes rushing back to him in a burst of exhilaration. After the test, the doctors decide between them that they don't know enough to determine the long-term side effects of Tony's order to remember.

"This is a subject area unknown to the vast, vast majority of scientists." Dr. Cho explains. "We can't predict what using the words could do to Peter's psyche."

Tony presses his fingers against his forehead, expression twisting. Peter squeezes his other hand, signalling _it's okay_ , and Tony shoots him a grateful smile.

"Neither of us feel comfortable risking his health without sufficient knowledge," Dr. Cho continues.

Tony raises his head. "So what are you going to do?"

"We're calling in an expert," Bruce says.

The expert turns out to be one Princess Shuri of Wakanda, whom Peter remembers quickly. The first thing she does is hug him tightly, then tell him that _you're the least annoying white boy here, so don't you dare disappear again_. She asks him questions on a wildly different tangent to Cho and Bruce, and promptly decides that exposure will be the best route to regaining memories.

"From what you've told me, you've remembered people after seeing them or hearing about them. Right?" she asks, and Peter nods. "So we need to get you exposed to as much as we can. I will gladly offer you weekly meetings in Wakanda to help you recuperate."

The offer floors Peter, and he accepts with a long string of thanks. Tony arranges for him to visit Wakanda every Saturday, fitting in with as much schooling as he can cope with, and gets him in contact with the particular scientists who are helping Bucky rid himself of his trigger words. Shuri spends most of their sessions just chatting, mentioning as many different things as she can during the conversations. Peter usually leaves them with a significant chunk of recovered memories. The vibranium incident eventually comes up; though Shuri is visibly shocked, when Peter tells her about Ned's testing she develops a hypothesis. According to the princess, HYDRA likely experimented on him to improve his abilities. He doesn't know how to feel about that.

From there, they fall into a relatively stable schedule. Peter has good days, where it's like the kid from before is back. Those days are happy and relaxed and filled with light. He has bad days, though, too, and he wakes up screaming and thrashing in the middle of the night. Those days are the worst: when he loses all the progress he's made and his memory leaves him, stranding him lost and confused in an unfamiliar place. Tony starts notifying May to keep away during Peter's episodes; she finds them, understandably, incredibly distressing.

Shuri continues working with Peter in Wakanda, helping him recover. Not all of the memories that come back are pleasant; the day that Peter remembers his abduction from the Manhattan rooftop is among the most horrible. A month into recovery, he recalls a vague, fuzzy part of his torture and has a panic attack at the prospect of a shower. It takes hours of talking with the therapist Tony finds him for Peter to be able to go out in the rain. Remembering Ben is another low point, and so is the day that the memories of HYDRA's experiments return, confirming Shuri's theory.

The process is slow. It's painful, almost, but gradually the bad days get fewer and farther between. It takes six and a half months for Peter to recover fully, regaining a stable state, and it's around the same time that the Wakandan scientists declare him clear of all HYDRA programming. Tony, being Tony Stark, decides to throw a party.

The guest list is small. The Avengers are present, as well as May, Happy and Pepper, and Tony even invites Ned. He ends up bringing MJ along, who apparently managed to figure out Peter's secret identity herself; both of them try very hard not to appear starstruck, though MJ manages to cover it up significantly better than Ned does. Peter doesn't stop smiling for the whole of the party. It's finally over, and it's all he wants. Steve greets him with a grin and a pat on the back that, if not for his strength, would likely have bowled him over. Natasha and Clint give him tight, smiling hugs, and Sam does the same. Bucky's greeting is a nod, before he puts a hand on Peter's shoulder.

"I'm damn proud you made it through," he says.

"We both did," Peter replies, grinning, and Bucky smiles back.

"We did indeed."

An hour in, Peter ends up in a cluster of people including Tony and Happy. Natasha's there, and May gives him a wide smile. Tony is in the middle of telling an animated story, and Happy is rolling his eyes. There's a chorus of greetings that spreads round the circle like a Mexican wave as he arrives, and then Tony turns to him.

"Hey, Peter," he greets warmly. "I was just talking about the Ancient Astrology trip. You remember?" They've developed that system over the months: Tony checks if Peter's keeping up recollection-wise to avoid him feeling anxious or out-of-place. "When we came out late and found Happy asleep?"

Peter remembers that day. Tony took him to a museum and they spent the whole time wandering around and making puns on the exhibits. They were an hour late, getting distracted at the gift shop, and so when they finally left to meet Happy he'd fallen asleep in the car. They'd laughed about it for weeks afterward. He _knows_ that day. He remembers.

"I remember, Mr. Stark," Peter says, and he can't help the smile that breaks across his face. "I remember everything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's it!
> 
> thank you all so, so much for reading and commenting and journeying with me through this story. i absolutely, genuinely, enjoyed both writing and sharing it, and i'm so so glad you all did too! i just want to tell you all that your comments have made me incredibly happy over this (month and a half?) time.
> 
> i love you all, and i hope you liked the ending! <333

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at [blackwatchandromeda](https://blackwatchandromeda.tumblr.com/)!


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